


The D.U.F.F whose name was Sansa Stark

by Winterfellsummerose17



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dialogue Heavy, Enemies, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Female Friendship, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-14 08:47:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 56,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14766374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterfellsummerose17/pseuds/Winterfellsummerose17
Summary: Seventeen year old Sansa Stark may not be the prettiest girl at Kings Landing High School, but she has her two best friends Marge and Dany , wit, and discernment by her side. She's way too smart to fall for Jon Snow, the resident playboy.But things are getting complicated at home and Sansa needs a distraction. Jon seems to fit that bill.But what happens when Jon begins to show her that he's more than what she originally thought?Added confusion, that's it.





	1. Orange Crush

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this in honor of one of my favorite YA books - The DUFF written by Kody Keplinger.  
> I do not own the DUFF verse nor Game of Thrones.
> 
> I should add, a lot of the plot and dialogue is/inspired from the book. (Not the movie) My end goal is to ultimately expand upon and shift it to the world we know.
> 
> Also Sansa is an only child, Margaery is an only child, Daenerys and Jon are not related. Arya is Jon's younger and only sibling.  
> Minor thing, only relevant really for chapter one- Joffrey is the trueborn son of Cersei and Robert, along with Myrcella and Tommen.

 Sansa sipped her Orange Crush as she watched Margaery and Daenerys on the dance floor.

All eyes were on them. How could they not be? Margaery was the head cheerleader, curvy, and had a fierceness that attracted the hot bad boys. She had long, wavy light brown hair and dark green eyes. She was a protector and was the sister Sansa wished she had.

_I bet that either Pyp or Grenn will ask her out soon._

Daenerys on the flip side had short hair that was a natural light blonde along with violet eyes like Elizabeth Taylor. The boys drooled whenever Dany passed them. She was probably the kindest person Sansa had ever met and so dedicated to those who surrounded her.

_Sadly, she’s also a complete ditz. Poor Dany, someone needs to tell her about…._

“Sansa, you okay?” The bartender Sandor asked, bringing her back to reality.

He was pretty cool to talk to whenever Marge and Dany drug her out to this hell-hole. Tall with long hair like Fabio and a pretty cool facial tattoo,  he always had something sarcastic to say about the things going on around him. He would probably be her third friend on whatever silly BFF lists out there, even if he was in his early forties.

“I’m fine. Why did you open The Dragon Pit? You always complain about how annoying _we_ are. Why not re-open it for adults? Adults seem to be less annoying.”

“Ehh, a good majority of the kids annoy the shit out me in this joint but there are a few diamonds in the rough. Like you, the fencing kids that come every Tuesday and Thursday, and Tyrion Lannister in occasional doses.”

“Mr. Lannister comes here?”

“I think his brother-in-law asked him to keep an eye out on his twit of a son.”

“I don’t blame him.”

“Not a fan of Joffrey?”

_Nope. Ever since the worm tried to shove his tongue down my throat freshman year and then called me a bitch after I slapped him._

“No. Are you a fan?”

“Not at all. Can’t stand the idiot. I’m excited when he’ll go to whatever school in a few months. His younger siblings are nice. He must’ve sucked all the negative qualities both his parents have, that there were none left for the younger two.” Sandor vigorously shook his head as he cleaned a glass.

“Thank the Gods.” Sansa chuckled and then she felt a soft tap on her shoulder.

She turned around and there was _Jon Snow smiling_  at her.

 _Jon Snow_ , the rich womanizer of the school who had flings with girls all over. All the girls at Kings Landing High School were obsessed with him, including Marge and Dany. He had dark brown curly hair along with dark brown eyes, which everyone said was always full of mystery. Sansa thought they were full of horniness and mischievousness. He reminded her of Loki if he had a beard.

But unlike her undying love for the MCU villain, Sansa was repulsed by Jon. His presence made every fiber of her body cringe and want to scream in terror.

 He wasn’t even that good-looking. Sansa didn’t get the hype.

 Well, maybe she did a little. He had a great body. His lips were really nice to look at. Too bad they were used for excessive debauchery.

_Why are his lips so full? He’s a guy! I shouldn’t be jealous of Jon Snow!_

“Hello,” Jon’s deep voice interrupted her thoughts and out the corner of her eye, Sansa saw that he sat beside her.

“What do you want?” Sansa rolled her eyes and took another sip of her drink.

“Aren’t you kind that brings fuzzy, warm feelings?” Jon asked sarcastically. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Well sorry. My talk to random strangers sessions is over.” She slurped at her drink, praying to the Seven that Jon would leave. But alas, she felt his brown eyes narrow at her and scan all over her. Probably trying to stir a reaction out her. It was working.

_Why can’t he be a normal person for once in his life? Just this once. Get up and go get your conquest for the night!_

“Come on,” Jon teased. “No need to be an _Ice Queen.”_

“Leave me alone,” Sansa hissed. “Try your slimy charm on some dumb girl whose standards are low because I’m not falling for it.”

“Oh I’m not into dumb girls,” Jon spoke. “That’s not my cup of tea.”

At that Sansa snorted. “Any girl who’d give you the time of day, Jon, her brain has slipped out of her skull. No girl with taste, smarts, and dignity would find you attractive.”

“And you _do_ have taste, smarts, and dignity, I assume?” He grinned.

“Yes, I do.”

“That’s a shame.”

“This is your attempt at flirting?” Sansa rose an eyebrow. “If it is, you fail. Immensely.”

Jon laughed. “I never fail at flirting.” He ran his fingers through his long curls and adjusted his smirk. “I’m just to be friendly. Trying to have a nice conversation.”

“Sorry. Not interested, the people I _want to_ talk to, the list is full.” Sansa turned away and took a sip of Orange Crush. But Jon remained. Hadn’t even budged just a smidge. “You can go now, Jon,” Sansa said forcefully.

Jon sighed. “Fine. You win. You’re really stubborn, you know. So I’ll be honest with you. I’ve got to hand it to you: you’re smarter and more unyielding than most girls I talk to. But I’m here for a little more than witty banter.” He turned, shifting his attention to the dance floor. “I actually need your help. You see, your friends are hot. And you, sweetling, are the Duff.”

“Is that even a word?”

“Designated. Ugly. Fat. Friend,” Jon clarified. “No offense, but that would be you.”

“I am not the--!”

“Hey, don’t get defensive, It’s not like you’re a white walker or anything, but in comparison.” Jon shrugged his broad shoulders. “Think about it for a minute. Why would they bring you here if you don’t dance?” Jon tried to reach over to pat Sansa’s knee, in an attempt to comfort but she jerked away. His fingers moved smoothly to brush stray curls out of his face instead. “Look,” Jon said, “you have really hot friends.”He paused, watching the action on the dance floor for a moment, before facing Sansa again. “The point is, scientists have proven that every group of friends has a weak link, a Duff. And girls respond well to guys who talk to their Duffs.”

“Crackheads can call themselves scientists now? That’s news to me.” Sansa scoffed.

“Don’t be bitter,” Jon responded. “What I’m saying is, girls--like your friends--find it sexy when guys show some sensitivity and socialize with their precious Duff. So by talking to you right now, I am doubling my chances of getting laid tonight. Please assist me here, and just to pretend to enjoy the conversation.”

Sansa stared at him for a long while. Beauty was skin-deep. Jon Snow may have had the body of ancient Westerosi hero, but his soul was black and empty as her closet.

_He’s such a bastard!_

Sansa was usually a rational woman but Jon Snow had pushed her limits. She jumped to her feet and flung the contents of her glass in Jon’s direction. Orange Crush flew all over him, staining his expensive-looking white polo. Drops of orange liquid glistened on his cheeks and colored his brown hair. Jon’s face glowed with anger, and his jaw clenched fiercely.

“What was that for?!” Jon snapped, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“What do you think it was for?” Sansa growled, fists balling at her sides.

“Honestly, Duffy, I don’t have a clue.”

Anger filled through Sansa’s veins. “If you think I’m letting one of my friends leave this place with you, Jon, you’re very, very wrong,” Sansa spat. “You’re a disgusting, shallow, womanizing jackass, and I hope that soda never comes out of your preppy shirt.” Just before Sansa marched towards Marge and Dany, she looked over at her shoulder and added, “And my name isn’t Duffy. It’s Sansa. We’ve been in the same homeroom since middle school, you self-absorbed son of a bitch.”

For once, Sansa was glad Sandor played the music so loud it could make your ears bleed. No one but Sandor heard the episode and as Sansa moved her way to the dance floor, she could hear his deep laugh. After scrambling through the bodies twerking and grinding up against one another, she found Marge and Dany.

She grabbed them by their elbows and walked quickly to the exit.

“Hey!” Dany protested.

“What’s wrong Sans?”Marge asked.

“We’re getting the fuck out of here,” Sansa sighed and continued to drag them unwillingly behind her. “I’ll explain in the car. I just can’t stand to be in this hellhole for one more second.”

“Can’t I say bye to Satin first?” Dany whined, trying to break out of Sansa’s grip.

“Dany!” Sansa painfully turned her neck to face her. “He’s gay! You don’t have a chance, so just give it up already. I need to get out of here. Please.”

* * *

 Marge curled up in the front seat and said through chattering teeth, “Why are we leaving so early? Sans, it’s only, like, nine-fifteen.”

Dany sulked in the backseat with a big fluffy blanket surrounding her like a cocoon.

_I need to get the heater fixed._

“I got into an argument with someone,” Sansa explained as she made a right-hand turn. “I threw my Crush on him, and I didn’t want to stick around for his response.”

“Who?” Marge asked.

Sansa cringed inwardly. After all, she knew exactly what reaction she’d get.

“Jon Snow.”

Two swoony sighs followed afterward.

“Oh, come on,” Sansa rolled her eyes. “The guy is a man-whore. I can’t stand him. He sleeps with everything that moves, and his brain is located in his pants--which means it’s microscopic.”

“I doubt that,” Marge sighed again. “Gods, Sans, only you could find a flaw in Jon Snow.”

Sansa glared at her friend after she pulled up to a red light. “He’s a jerk.”

“That’s not true,” Dany piped up. “Gilly said he talked to her at a party recently. She was with Jeyne and Ros, and she said he just came up and sat down beside her. He was really friendly.”

At that, sadness filled Sansa. Gilly was definitely the Duff if she was out with Jeyne and Ros.

_I wonder if Jeyne or Ros left with Jon that night._

“He’s charming,” Marge said. “You’re just being Little Miss Cynical, as usual.” She gave a warm smile to Sansa from across the cab. “But what the hell did he do to get you to throw Crush at him?” Marge’s voice was full of concern. “Did he say something to you, Sans?”

Sansa took a deep breath. “No,” she lied. “It’s nothing. He just pisses me off.”

_Duff_

 The word ran rampantly through Sansa’s mind as she continued driving. Every word she saw or heard, became that word. It was overwhelming. She glanced over in her rearview mirror and Jon’s assertion seemed to ring true.  Marge with her perfect hourglass figure and Dany’s flawless complexion. She couldn’t compare to either of them.

“We should hit another party since it’s so early,” Marge suggested. “I heard about this one out in Dorne. Some college kid is home for Christmas break and decided to have a big blow out. Jeyne told me about it this morning. Want to go?”

“Yeah!” Dany straightened up beneath the fuzzy blanket. “We should totally go! College parties have college _boys._ Won’t that be fun, Sansa?”

Sansa sighed. “No. Not really.”

“Oh, come on.” Marge reached over and squeezed Sansa’s arm. “No dancing this time, okay? And Dany and I promise to keep all the hot guys away from you since you clearly hate them.”She smirked, trying to nudge Sansa in a good mood.

“I don’t hate hot guys,” Sansa finally said “Just Jon Snow.”

Sansa sighed. She may come to regret this later but her friends meant the world to her. She turned off the highway and went onto the backroads towards Dorne. “Fine, we’ll go. But you two are buying me ice cream afterward. Two scoops.”

“Deal.” Marge and Dany spoke in unison.

 


	2. Monday Woes Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mondays' are not Sansa's friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this story- Sam and Dickon are not related
> 
> Also I am recasting Dickon for this story because he's a cute nerd and well Tom Hopper is......I just can't.
> 
> Dickon Tarly recasting: Cole Sprouse :) (Inspired by Cody from Suite Life shows)
> 
> Enjoy!

 Sansa could her Dad’s muffled snores across the hall as she tiptoed to her room. It was past one after attending the Dorne party. Gods, the music had been loud. It made The Dragon Pit’s music sound like lullabies. But at least Jon Snow hadn’t been there.

Sansa yawned as she slid off her coat on her desk chair and shuffled over to her bed. She kicked off her TOMS across the room. She was exhausted but her mind was still rattling. She needed to fold her clean laundry before she’d ever been able to go to sleep. She picked up every individual piece and folded it neatly as if it were in to be in display at one of the stores Marge and Dany got their clothes from. She loved folding wrinkled clothes. It brought her peace. It cleared, relaxed, and subdued her irritation from all the events that happened earlier in the night. With every even crease, Sansa felt renewed.

After all the clothes were folded and stacked, she stood up, leaving the clothes on the floor. She pulled off her sweater and jeans, which smelled from the two sweltering parties, and tossed the hamper in the corner of her room. She debated taking a shower to get the stink off but decided to take one in the morning. Sansa was too tired to deal with it tonight.

Before settling in her sheets, she glanced in the full-length mirror across the room. She studied her reflection with new eyes, with new knowledge. Straight red hair with no volume and often led her being called a Soul Seeker by morons. A small mole on the left side of her jaw, which she always wanted to cover with makeup. Pretty much a ruler with no curves. Pale legs that drew attention that she couldn’t tan without looking like a crab. A seemingly invisible butt. Her silly blue eyes that didn’t hold mystery in them, just open pools. They always prevented her from having a full poker face. Lastly her face in general, she couldn’t keep up with the number of times people said she looked like Boy George.

_Yep, Definitely Duff material. How had I not known?_

Sansa, never considered herself particularly attractive, and it wasn’t hard to see that Marge and Dany, both curvy and short, were beautiful, but still. The fact she played the role of the ugly girl to their luscious duo hadn’t occurred to her. Thanks to Jon Snow, she could see it now.

Sometimes it was better to be clueless.

She pulled the blanket up to her chin, to hide her naked body from the scrutiny of the mirror. Jon was the living proof that beauty was only skin-deep, so why did his words bother her? Sansa was intelligent. She was a good person. Who cared if Sansa was the Duff? If she were attractive, she’d have to deal with guys like _Jon_ hitting on her. _Being a Duff has its benefits, right? Being unattractive doesn’t have to suck. Damn Jon Snow! Why is he making me worry about such stupid, pointless, shallow bullshit?_

Sansa looked up at the ceiling and hoped desperately she wouldn’t think about _Duffs ever again._

* * *

 

Sunday was wonderful-nice, quiet, uninterrupted euphoria. Of course, things were usually pretty quiet when Sansa’s mom was away. When Catelyn Stark was home, the house always felt loud. There was always Riverlands music playing or soft laughter constantly ringing. But she never seemed to be home for more than a couple of months, and in the time she was gone, everything grew still. Like his daughter, Ned Stark wasn’t much for socializing. He was usually buried in his work or watching television. Which meant the Stark house was pretty silent more often than not.

Sansa loved the quietness. It brought her much happiness after the ruckus that was last night.

* * *

 

But Mondays sucked. Why did the Seven create Monday?

All Mondays sucked to Sansa but this one especially fucked everything up.

It all started with her first class of the day when Dany slid into Valyrian with tear-stained cheeks and running eyeliner.

“Dany, what’s wrong?” Sansa asked. “Did something happen? Is everything okay?”

It always freaked Sansa out on the rare occasions when Dany came to class looking anything less than cheery. She was constantly bouncing and giggling. But now she looked full sadness and it scared the shit out of Sansa.

Dany shook her head miserably and plopped into her seat. “Everything’s fine, but...I can’t go Homecoming!” Fresh tears came down from her wide violet eyes. “Mom won’t let me go!”

_That’s it? She scared me over Homecoming?_

“Why not?” Sansa tried to sound sympathetic.

“I’m grounded,” Dany sniffed. “She saw my report card in my room this morning, and she found out I’m failing Algebra 2, and she flipped out! It’s not effing fair! Basketball Homecoming is, like my favorite dance year...after prom and Sadie Hawkins and Football Homecoming.”

Sansa tilted her chin down and looked at Dany teasingly. “Wow, how many favorites do you have?”

Dany didn’t answer or laugh.

“I’m sorry Dany. I know it must suck..but I’m not going either.” Sansa didn’t mention that she found school dances either degrading or big wastes of time and money. Dany already knew her opinion and they wouldn’t help the situation. But she was glad she wouldn’t be the only girl skipping. “How about this: I’ll come over, and we’ll watch movies all night. Will your mom be cool with that?”

Dany nodded and wiped her face off with her sleeve.

“Yeah,” She grinned. “My mom likes you. She thinks you’re a good influence on me. So that’ll be okay. Thanks, Sansa. Can we watch _Atonement_ again? Are you sick of it yet?”

_Yes, I’m getting very sick of mushy romances. Why can’t we watch a Marvel movie? Especially one with Tom Hiddleston? That man is gorgeous. But I can get over it. James McAvoy is quite the looker as well._

“I never get tired of James McAvoy. We can even watch _Becoming Jane_ if you want. It’ll be a double feature.” Sansa grinned and Dany laughed as Mrs. Lannister-Tarth came in. She smiled at the class and turned to start writing on the board. Dany glanced at their teacher before looking back at Sansa. Her eyes were sparkling with new tears. “You know what the worst part is, Sansa?” She whispered. “I was going to ask Satin to go with me. Now I’ll have to wait until prom to ask him to a dance.”

Because of Dany’s sensitive state, Sansa decided not to remind her that Satin wouldn’t be interested because she had boobs-big ones. Instead, Sansa softly smiled “I know. I’m sorry, Dan

The rest of Valyrian went great. Sansa got an A on her last test after reviewing how to conjugating regular present subjunctive verbs. She was happy as she walked beside Dany and Jeyne out of the classroom, listening Jeyne tell them about her new boyfriend.

“And he just got asked to do an internship at Vale Engineering. How amazing is that?” Jeyne rambled as they pushed their way on through the crowded hall.

“Where does he go to school?” Sansa asked.

“He goes to Red Keep Community College.” Jeyne sounded a little embarrassed, and quickly added, “But he’s just getting his associate’s degree there before he goes to a university. And RKCC isn’t a bad school or anything.”

“That’s where I’m going,” Dany chimed in. “I don’t want to go too far from home.”

That’s where Sansa and Dany were such polar opposites. It was quite funny. Anyone could predict what the other was going to do by just picking the reverse of the other. Sansa couldn’t wait to get out Crownlands. Graduation couldn’t come fast enough, and then she’d be off to Winterfell University.

But the idea being so far away from Dany--not seeing her bounciness every day or hearing her jabber about dances and gay boys--suddenly scared Sansa. She wasn’t entirely sure how she would handle it. Dany and Marge kind of balanced Sansa out. She wasn’t sure anyone else would be willing to put up with her cynicism and quick wit once she left town.

“We should get to Biology, Dan,” Jeyne said as she shook her long black bangs from her eyes. “You know how Mr. Baelish gets when we show up late.” At that Sansa inwardly cringed. She hated AP Biology with Mr. Baelish last year so much she requested to switch classes.

_Gods, he’s such a creepy man._

Sansa watched them scurry off to the science department and she turned right towards the hallway leading to AP Government. Her mind drifted to other places, to a future without her best friends to keep her sane. She’d never considered that before, and now that she was thinking about it, it made her nervous. She knew Marge and Dany would tease her for it, but she would have to find a way to keep in constant contact.

Unfortunately, Sansa’s eyes lost contact with her brain, because she ran smack into Jon Snow.

_Well, there goes my good mood._

She stumbled backward, and all of the textbooks slipped from her arms and crashed to the floor.  Jon grabbed her by both shoulders, his large hands catching Sansa before she had the chance to trip over her own feet and collapse on the tile.

“Whoa,” Jon said, steadying her.

They were standing _way_ too close for Sansa’s liking. She felt bugs crawling up and under her skin, spreading from the places where his hands touched her. She shivered with disgust, but he misread it.

“Wow, Duffy,” Jon said, looking down at her with a cocky grin. He was really tall- She’d forgotten that, sitting next to him at the Dragon Pit the other night. He was one of the only boys in the school who was taller than her-at least six three. A full six inches taller. “Do I make you weak in the knees?”

“As if.” Sansa twisted out of Jon’s grasp and knelt down to begin gathering her books. To her displeasure, Jon joined her. He was playing the Kind Knight role, of course. She guessed he was hoping a hot cheerleader, like Marge, would walk by and think he was being a gentleman.

_What a pig. Always looking to score._

“Valyrian, huh?” Jon spoke, glancing down at the scattered papers as he picked them up. “Can you say anything interesting?”

“Se sound hen aōha elēni mazverdagon nyke jaelagon naejot strangle nykēla.” Sansa stood up and waited for him to hand over her papers.

“That sounds sexy,” he said, getting to his feet and handing her over the stack of Valyrian work he’d swept together. “What’s it mean?”

“The sound of your voice makes me want to strangle myself.”

“Kinky,” Jon smirked down at her.

Without another word, Sansa jerked the papers from his hands, tucking them inside one of her books, and stomped off to class. She needed to put as much distance between herself and the womanizing bastard as possible.

_Duffy? Seriously? He knows my name! The egotistical jackass just can’t let me be._

Sansa’s skin was _still_ itching from where Jon had touched her.

Mr. Lannister-Tarth’s AP government class only consisted of thirteen students, and eleven of them were already in the room by the time Sansa walked in. Mr. Lannister-Tarth gave her a dirty look through his squinting eyes, impressing on her not to arrive just before the bell rang. It was an unspoken cardinal sin.

Sansa was grateful he didn’t comment on her almost lateness and settled in her seat in the back of the room.

The last student entered just as the bell rang. “Sorry, Mr. Lannister-Tarth. I was putting up signs promoting next week’s inauguration ceremony. You didn’t start already, did you?”

Sansa’s heart sped up when she saw who just came in. Sansa thought high school relationships were pointless. For Sansa, love took years to develop, you couldn’t love someone before you dated them. It made no sense. She was almost hypocrite.

Only Marge and Dany knew but that didn’t count.

Dickon Tarly. Aside from his unfortunate first name, he was perfect in every single way. He wasn’t a testosterone-loaded football player. He wasn’t an overly sensitive guitar-playing hippie. He didn’t write poetry or wear eyeliner. So he probably wouldn’t have been classified as the typical hottie, but that worked in Sansa’s favor, right? Jocks, guys in bands, and Emo boys didn’t look twice at--as Jon would have so delicately worded it--the Duff. She had to have a better chance with intelligent, politically active, somewhat socially awkward guys like Dickon. Right?

_Nope, nope, nope._

Dickon Tarly was Sansa’s perfect match. Sadly, he wasn’t aware of it. She acted like a fish out of water whenever she went near him. All her words turned into mush. He probably assumed she was mute. He never looked at her or spoke to her. For a girl who was 5”9”,  Sansa felt invisible.

She noticed Dickon, though. She noticed his outdated argyle sweater vests and long sleeve button downs underneath them. His blond hair that kinda reminded her of Shaggy from _Scooby Doo._ The cute moles on his face. She noticed the adorable way he would chew on his lower lip whenever he was in deep thought.

Sansa wasn’t in love. No way. But she was deeply in _like_ with Dickon Tarly.

“Fine,” Mr. Lannister-Tarth muttered. “Just keep an eye on your watch tomorrow, Mr. Tarly.”

“Sure thing, sir.”

Dickon took a seat in the front row besides Gilly. Like a spy, Sansa listened to their conversation while Mr. Lannister-Tarth wrote on the board.

“How was your weekend, Dickon?” Gilly asked through her constantly stuffy nose. Sansa felt for her. Allergies were the worst. “Did you do anything exciting?”

“It was pretty good,” Dickon smiled. “Mom took Talisa and me out of Crownlands. We toured Storms End University. That was pretty cool.”

“Is Talisa your sister?” Gilly asked.

“No. Talisa’s my girlfriend. She goes to Westerland High School. Didn’t I tell you about her? Anyway, we both got accepted there, so we wanted to check it out. I’m looking at a few other schools, but we’ve been together for a year and a half, and we kind of want to attend the same school to avoid the long-distance issue.”

“That’s sweet!”Gilly cried. “I’m actually considering just doing some classes at RKCC before I decide what university I’ll go to.”

Sansa’s skin stopped crawling and her stomach dropped.

Dickon had a girlfriend? For a year and a half? How had she missed that? And they were considering going to college _together_? Did that mean he was one of those stupid, mushy romantics she mocked occasionally?

She expected so much more from him. But what did it matter?

_He would never date you. You’re the Duff. His girlfriend is probably tan and flawless._

It wasn’t even lunch yet and Sansa wanted to jump into a moon door. Maybe it was a little much but still.

She wanted to forget Dickon had a serious girlfriend. She wanted to wash the feeling of Jon’s hands off herself. She wanted to erase _Duff_ from her memory.

But as her life is a tragic comedy, her day continually got worse.

* * *

 

At six o’clock later that night, the weatherman warned that a big snowstorm was coming soon and it would show early tomorrow morning. The bright side of this sucky day, Sansa surmised, was that the school board gave them a snow day.

Marge called at seven insisting that they all go to the Dragon Pit since there was no school tomorrow.

“I don’t know Marge,” Sansa said. “What if the roads are bad?” Sansa was looking for _any_ reason not to go. The day had been miserable enough on its own. She didn’t think she could endure the torture of that hellhole, too.

“Sans, the storm isn’t supposed to even start until, like, four a.m. or something. As long as we’re home by then it’ll be cool.”

“I have a lot of homework.”

“It’s not due until Wednesday. You can work on it _all day_ tomorrow if you want.”

Sansa sighed. “Can you and Dany find another ride and go without me? I just don’t feel up to it. It’s been a bad day, Marge.”

Sansa knew Marge always reacted quickly to the slightest sign of trouble.

“What happened?” she asked “Are you okay? You didn’t look happy at lunch. Is it about your mom?”

“Marge.”

“Tell me what’s up.”

“Nothing,” Sansa assured her. “Today just wasn’t my day, okay? Nothing major or anything. I’m just not in the mood to go partying with you guys tonight.”

There was a pause and Marge spoke up. “Sansa, you know you can tell me anything, right? You know you can talk to me if you need to. Don’t keep things bottled up. It’s not good for you.”

“Marge, I’m fi--”

“You’re _fine,_ ” Marge interrupted. “Yeah, I know. I’m just saying if you have a problem, I’m here for you.”

“I know,” Sansa whispered. She felt guilty for getting Marge worried over something so dumb. Sansa was terrible at keeping all her emotions in, and Marge knew that all too well. Marge was always looking out for her. She was always trying to coax Sansa into opening up so that she wouldn’t explode later. It could get annoying, but knowing someone cared...it felt nice. “I know, Marge. I’m fine, though. It’s just… I found out Dickon has a girlfriend earlier today and I’m still reeling. That’s all.”

“Oh, Sans.” Marge sighed. “That sucks, I’m sorry, Maybe if you came out tonight, Dany and I can cheer you up. Two scoops of ice cream and everything.”

Sansa laughed softly. “Thanks, but no thanks. I think I’ll just stay home tonight.”

She hung up and started to go down the stairs when she overheard her Dad yelling into his phone. At first, she thought it was one of those weird telemarketers and they managed to piss off Ned Stark. But then she heard her name. He must’ve heard her footsteps because his voice became softer.

‘Think of what you’re doing to Sansa!” Dad’s voice was full of sadness and pain. “This isn’t good for a seventeen-year-old girl and her mother. She needs you here at home, Cat. _We_ need you here.”

Sansa gripped the railing. She was surprised he was talking to Mom. She felt conflicted. She missed her mom and having her back home would feel amazing. But it wasn’t as if Sansa and Dad weren’t already accustomed to getting by in life without her.

Her mom was an author. She wrote several series that became quite popular when Sansa was younger and then she began to write self-help books. She got invited to speak and do book signings. At first, they were local tours. But after Grandma Tully died when Sansa was thirteen,  her mom became filled with grief. Dad suggested for her to take a vacation and four weeks later, Mom gushed to Dad and Sansa about all the places she had visited. Perhaps that sparked the big tours over the last four years. Mom had been gone for two months. Sansa didn’t even know what town she was in currently.

Dad was pissed and it broke Sansa’s heart. Mom had been gone for so long.

“Damn it, Cat. When are you going to stop being a child and come home? When are you coming home to us...for good?” Dad’s voice cracked and Sansa felt tears streaming down her face. “Cat,” he murmured. “Cat, we love you. Sansa and I miss you, and we want you to come home.”

Sansa sat down on the stairs and bit her lip in order to not cry aloud. She could barely see. Why couldn’t they just admit things weren’t working out? Why keep breaking the other’s heart? What was the point of their marriage if one person was absentee all the time?

“Cat,” Dad was crying now and Sansa sniffled. She heard him put the phone down and groan sadly. The conversation was over.

Sansa gave him and herself a few minutes before she wiped her tears up. She proceeded down the stairs and walked into the living room.

“Hey, Dad. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” He said. _It must be in our Stark blood to suck at lying._ “Oh, it’s fine. Ladywolf. I just talked with your mom and... she sends her love.”

“From where?”

“Um...Vale,” Dad replied. “She’s visiting your aunt Lysa while she speaks at a high school. Cool huh? You can tell your friends that your mom is in the V.C. now like the O.C. You like that show, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Sansa said. “I liked it...but it’s been off the air for ten years.”

“Oh, well...I guess I’m behind, Ladywolf.” Dad’s eyes drifted over the coffee table, where he’d left his car keys, and Sansa followed them. He noticed and looked away quickly before she could say anything. “Do you have plans tonight?” Dad asked.

“Well, I could make some, but…” Sansa cleared her throat, she was uncertain what to say next. She and Dad didn’t really have a habit of talking to each other. “I could stay home, too. Do you want me to stay here and, like watch TV with you or something?”

“Oh, no, Ladywolf,” He said with an unconvincing laugh. “Go have fun with your friends. I’ll probably go to bed early tonight, anyway.”

Sansa looked Dad right in the eye, hoping he would change his mind. Dad became withdrawn and depressed after arguments with Mom. She was worried about him but she didn’t know how to approach the subject.

The tiny fear in the back of her mind came rushing forward. Dad was a recovering alcoholic.  He had quit before she was born and hadn’t touched it since. But sometimes, when he became like this, it frightened her. Sansa was afraid he’d take the car keys and head off to a bar or liquor store.

_But that’s ridiculous, right? He wouldn’t do that. Dad has a good head on his shoulders._

Dad broke their eye contact and shifted uncomfortably. He slumped down on the couch and turned on the TV to ESPN. Sansa wanted to sit beside him and take the remote away. She wanted to tell him it was silly to distract himself, that he needed to face the facts. That he could be brave and be open with his feelings.

But Sansa froze because she couldn’t express those things. All she could say was “Dad…”

He turned around and shook his head. “Go out and have fun,” he said. “Seriously, I want you to. You’re only a kid once.”

There was no point in arguing. This was his subtle way of telling her, he wanted to be alone.

“Okay,” Sansa smiled weakly. “If you’re sure...I’ll go call Marge.”

She walked upstairs and into her bedroom. She hit re-dial and after two rings, Marge answered.

“Hey, Marge. I changed my mind about the Dragon Pit... and, um, do you think it would be okay if I stayed over tonight? I’ll tell you about it later, but I...I just don’t want to stay at home.”

Sansa refolded the clean clothes on the floor at the foot of her bed before she left, but it didn’t help as much as it usually did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love reading your comments and constructive criticism!
> 
> You all are awesome!  
> -Winterfellsummerose


	3. Monday Woes Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday just gets better and better for Sansa, right?
> 
> WRONG

“Another, Sandor.” Sansa slid her empty glass towards him, who caught it easily.

“I’m cutting you off, Sansa.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s Orange Crush.”

“Which can be just as dangerous as whiskey.” Sandor put the glass on a counter behind the bar. “No more. You’ll thank me later. Caffeine headaches are a bitch, and I know how you girls are. When you gain five pounds, you’ll blame me.”

“Whatever.” Sansa scoffed.

_What does it matter if I gain weight? I’m the duff already and Dickon has a serious girlfriend. At least if I gain weight, my butt can finally emerge from the shadows._

“Sorry, Sansa.” Sandor moved to the other end of the bar, where Jeyne and Ros were waiting to order drinks.

Sansa drummed her fingers on the old, rickety wooden surface, her mind far away from the loud music and flashing lights. Why didn’t she insist on staying home with Dad? Couldn’t she bring out her inner Tullyness and get him to talk to her? Images of him wallowing in his misery alone flooded her mind.

But that’s how Starks handled stress.

Alone

_Why does it have to be that way? Why can’t Dad and I talk to each other? Why can’t Dad admit that Mom and him are having issues? He needs someone to be there for him…..why can’t I say anything?_

“Hello, Duffy.”

_Why does the jackass have to sit next to me?_

“Go away, Jon,” Sansa growled, staring down at her restless fingers.

“I can’t,” he said. “You see, Duffy, I’m not one to give up easily. I am determined to hook up with one of your friends--preferably the one with the fantastic rack.”

“Then go talk to _her,”_ Sansa suggested.

“I would, but Jon Snow doesn’t chase girls. They chase him.” He grinned at her. “It’s all right. She’ll be over here _begging_ for me to sleep with her soon. Talking to you will just speed up the process. Until then, you get the honor of my company. Lucky for me, it doesn’t look like you’re armed with a beverage tonight.” He laughed but soon stopped. Sansa felt his stare but she didn’t care to look up. “Are you all right? You don’t seem as aggressive as usual.”

“Leave me alone, Jon. I’m serious.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Go away.”

The anxiety inside Sansa was begging to escape, to be released in any way. She couldn’t wait until Marge and her got back to Marge’s house to vent. She needed it to be let out _now._ But she didn’t want to cry, not in front of half of the school, and there was no way she was going to talk about it with Sandor or the douche bag beside her, and punching something or someone would get her in trouble. Sansa was running thin on options, but she felt she would implode if she didn’t let it out soon.

Mom was in Vale.

Dad was drowning.

She was a coward, too afraid to do anything about it.

“There has to be something bothering you,” Jon persisted. “You look like you’re about to cry.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to turn and face him. “Sansa?”

Sansa did a really fucked-up thing. Her only excuse was that she was stressed out of her mind and found a reliever. She needed something to distract her from her family’s drama-just for a moment. So she saw her chance and acted impulsively. Her opportunity for relief was right next to her.

She kissed Jon Snow.

One second his hand was on her shoulder, and his brown eyes rested, for once, on her face, and the next her lips were on his.

Her lips were relentless with kept emotion, and Jon seemed to tense, his body frozen in shock. But that didn’t last too long. A second later, he returned the fierceness, his hands flying to Sansa’s sides and pulling her towards him. It was a war between their mouths. Her hands clawed into his curly hair, tugging it way harder than necessary, and his fingertips tightened around her waist.

It felt better than punching someone would have. Not only did it help release Sansa’s stress, but it definitely distracted her. It was hard to think about Dad when she was making out with someone.

As disturbing as it felt deep down in her soul, Jon was a _really good_  kisser. He leaned into her, and Sansa tugged him so hard that he nearly fell out of his bar stool. In the moment, they couldn’t get close enough to one another. Their separate seats seemed miles apart.

All of her thoughts vanished, and she became somewhat of a physical being. Emotions were gone. Nothing existed except for their bodies and fighting lips were at the center of everything. It was pure bliss! It felt amazing to Sansa to not think.

Nothing! Nothing...until Jon screwed it up.

His hand slid up from her waist, trailing along her torso, and finally came to a stop on her boob.

Everything flooded her mind again, and Sansa remembered exactly who she was kissing. She tore her hands out of his curls and shoved him away as hard as she could. Anger surged through her, replacing the anxious worry she had felt a minute before. Jon’s hands dropped, one landing on her knee as he pulled away. He looked surprised but distinctly pleased.

“Wow, Duffy, that was--”

And Sansa slapped him, so hard that her palm stung with the contact.

The hand on her knee flew to his cheek. “What the hell?” he demanded. “Why did you do that?”

* * *

 Marge’s queen-size bed was incredibly warm. The pillows were soft, and Sansa felt like she could sink into the fluffy mattress and dwell there forever. But she couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, praying to the Seven not to wake Marge up. She counted dragons. Tried to count down from ten. Imagined Mr. Lannister-Tarth talking on and on about the time his friend Bronn and him traveled to Dorne in the good ol’ days.

Nothing was working, Sansa was still wide awake.

She was keeping everything inside, but this time it didn’t have to do with Dad. She confessed that right away to Marge after they dropped of Dany earlier in the night.

“I’m getting worried about Dad,” She told her.  She waited until Dany was out of the car to talk about it. Dany wouldn’t understand. She was from a happy, healthy two-parent family. Marge, on the flip side, had already seen her parents’ relationship crumble. “He’s so naive. I mean, isn’t obvious that it isn’t working? Shouldn’t they just file the papers and be done with it?”

“Don’t say that, Sans,” Marge warned. “Seriously, don’t even think that way.”

Sansa shrugged.

“It’ll all work out,” she said, reaching over and squeezing Sansa’s hand as they sped towards Marge’s house. The snow hadn’t started falling yet, but Sansa could see the clouds moving across the stars in the dark sky above. “She’ll come home and they’ll talk it through and have hot makeup sex--”

“Gods! Gross, Marge!”

“--and everything will be back to normal.” Marge paused as Sansa pulled into the driveway. “And in the meantime, I’m here for you. If you need to talk, you know I’ll listen.”

“Yeah, I know.” It was the same Marge Saves the Day speech Sansa had been hearing over the last twelve years, any time the slightest problem arose in her life. Not that she needed tonight, really. Since they left the Dragon Pit, Dad hadn’t been on her mind that much. She released all her worries when she kissed Jon.

That was the _one_ thing keeping her from getting rest. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. Her skin felt itchy. Her lips felt foreign. No matter how many times she had brushed her teeth (after twenty minutes, Marge knocked on the bathroom door, to ask if she was okay), the taste of that disgusting, womanizing bastard was still her mouth. But she had done it to herself.

 _She_ kissed _him_. Yeah, he groped her, but what had she really expected? Jon Snow didn’t exactly have a reputation for being a gentleman. He might’ve been a jackass, but Sansa had to take the blame for the situation. That didn’t sit well with her.

“Marge,” Sansa whispered. Waking her friend up at 3 a.m. wasn’t kind, but didn’t Marge always tell her to be vulnerable with her feelings? She technically brought this on herself. “Hey, Marge?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you awake?”

“Mmm-mmm.”

“If I tell you something, will you swear not to tell anyone?” Sansa asked. “And will you promise not to freak out?”

“Sure Sans,” she mumbled. “What is it?”

“I kissed someone tonight,” Sansa whispered.

“Good for you. Now go back to sleep.”

Sansa sighed. “It was Jon...Jon Snow.”

Marge shot straight up in bed. “Whoa!” She shook her head and rubbed the sleep from her wide green eyes. “Okay, now I’m awake.” She turned to face Sansa, her brown hair in a wavy mess.

_Gods, how does she manage to make even that look good???_

“OMG! What happened? I thought you hated the guy.”

“I do hate him. I will always hate him. It was just a stupid, immature, thoughtless moment of...stupidity.” Sansa sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. “I feel dirty.”

“Dirty can be fun.”

“Marge.”

“Sorry, Sans, but I don’t see what the problem is,” she admitted. “He’s hot. He’s rich. He’s probably a fantastic kisser. Is he? I mean he has those _lips_ that just make me think--”

“Marge!” Sansa put her hands over her ears. “Stop! Look, I’m totally not proud of this. I was there, he was there, and I just...Gods, I can’t believe I did that. Does this make me a slut?”

“Kissing Jon? Hardly.”

“What do I do, Marge?”

“Kiss him again?”

Sansa shot her a dirty look before falling back on her pillow. She rolled on her side so she wasn’t facing Marge. “Forget it,” She sighed. “I shouldn’t have told you at all.”

“Oh, Sans, don’t be like that,” Marge laughed. “I’m sorry, but I think you should look on the bright side for once in your life. I mean you haven’t had a boyfriend since…” She trailed off. Both of them knew the name after all. “Anyway, it’s about time you started getting a little bit of action. You never talk to any guys except for Sandor, and he’s way too old for you. And now that we know Dickon’s off the market, what’s the problem if you date Jon? Would it kill you?”

“I am _not_ dating him,” Sansa hissed. “Jon Snow doesn’t date, he fucks--everyone, for that matter. I just kissed him, and it was so stupid...stupid, stupid, stupid! It was a huge mistake.”

Marge nestled back into her side of the mattress. “You know, I knew even you couldn’t resist his charm forever.”

“Excuse me,” Sansa rolled back over to glare at her. “I’m resisting just fine, thanks. And you know what? There’s nothing to resist. I find him repulsive. Tonight was just a lapse in judgment and it will _never_ happen again.”

“Never say never, Sans.”

Marge began snoring within minutes and Sansa finally fell asleep inwardly cursing both Marge and Jon. That felt soothing.

* * *

Sansa walked through the door the next afternoon, shaking the fresh snow out of her hair. The storm hadn’t been as big as the weatherman predicted, but flurries were still falling outside. The sun was bright, though, so the moderate dusting would be melted by that evening. She took off her light blue jacket and glanced over at her Dad, who was on the couch reading the _Crownlands News_ with a cup of hot chocolate in his right hand. He must’ve gotten off early from Computer Geeks. The best place in town to get electronics and get them fixed, as the overly peppy commercial sang every time she saw and heard it.

He looked up and smiled at her. “Hey, Ladywolf,” he greeted her, putting his mug on the coffee table. “Did you have fun with Marge and Dany?”

“Yeah,” She replied. “How was work?”

“Busy,” Dad sighed. “Do you know how many people bought laptops for Christmas? I’m sure you don’t, so I’ll tell you a bunch did. Do you know how many were faulty?”

“A lot?” Sansa guessed.

“We have a winner.” Dad shook his head and folded up the newspaper. “If you don’t have the money to buy a good laptop, why bother? Just save the money and buy a better one later. You’ll end up spending that extra cash on repairs if you don’t. Remember that, Ladywolf. If I teach you one thing in life, let that be it.”

“Sure, Dad.” Sansa smiled.

She felt like an idiot. How could she have gotten so worried last night? Clearly, it was over nothing. Dad and Mom were having issues, but it would blow over soon just like Marge said it would. Dad wasn’t depressed or sad, he wasn’t even close to touching a drop of alcohol.

Still, Sansa knew Mom’s absence was hitting him hard. She ought to make it easier on him and perhaps he was feeling a little lonely lately, and Sansa knew that was partially her fault too.

“Wanna watch TV?” Sansa asked. “I don’t have much homework due tomorrow, so I can wait and do it later.”

“Sounds good,” Dad smiled. He picked up the remote from the side table. “There’s a rerun of _Little House on the Prairie_ on right now.”

Sansa grimaced.  “Uh,...okay.”

“I’m kidding, Ladywolf,” Dad laughed, flipping through the channels. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Let’s see….Oh, look. There’s a _Law & Order: Special Victims Unit _marathon on USA. You used to love this show when you were younger. You and I used to watch the reruns when you were seven.”

“I remember.” Sansa settled on the couch beside him. “I told you I would never go into Law after Elliot left because that broke my soul and it was way too stressful.”

Dad snorted and adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses. “Well that didn’t happen, now did it? My Ladywolf is going to major in Law at the prestigious Winterfell University!” Dad put an arm around Sansa’s shoulders and squeezed. And she knew this was what he needed. Just a little bonding time so that the house didn’t feel quite so empty. She loved the quiet, but too much would drive her batty. “What do you say we watch a few episodes?”

Sansa smiled. “Sure, Dad.”

But halfway through the episode,  duff haunted her mind. Maybe it was the reminder that the opposing lawyers weren’t featured as much in the episodes as the main district attorney Alex was. But perhaps that was a good thing right? On the bright side, when she would question someone on the stand, they wouldn’t make some asinine comment on her looks or get distracted.

Sansa wondered if Dickon’s girlfriend was going into Law. Probably not. She was dating Dickon, so Sansa guessed she was into politics. A few months ago she overheard Dickon tell Gilly he was going to major in Political Science and become an Intelligence Analyst. Along with adding he wanted to be a Senator one day.

Gods that made him sound even dreamier. But Intelligence Analysts/future Senators didn’t date duffs. They dated women who looked good on the sidelines of debates.

Maybe Sansa had a chance with a Tom Hiddleston type guy who was completely oblivious to her duffiness.

She glanced over at Dad who nodded in agreement to what Olivia was saying on screen. How in the Seven did _SVU_ bring back that damned word?

_Duff. Gods, Jon, and his damn pigeonholing won’t leave me alone! The stupid word is taunting me in my own home!_

Sansa scooted closer to Dad, trying to focus on the show. On their time together. On anything but Jon and that stupid label. She tried to forget about that damn kiss and how idiotic she’d been.

Tried, tried, tried.

And failing miserably at that.

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Background

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's life is just an ongoing comedy, isn't it?
> 
>  
> 
> **Marge's last name in this fic is Gardener**
> 
> Enjoy:)

In kindergarten, Sansa had a traumatic monkey bars incident. She had been halfway across, legs swinging beneath her, when her hands got sweaty and she slipped. She fell onto the ground, hearing all the other five-year-olds laughing at her and her scraped, bloody knees. All of them but one.

Margaery Gardener walked out of the gawking group and came to stand in front of her. Even back then, Sansa knew Marge was beautiful. Dark brown locks, green eyes, rosy cheeks...the epitome of five-year-old perfection. She could have been in pageants.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Sansa mumbled through thick, hot tears. She wasn’t sure whether she was crying over the pain in her knees or because of the way all of her classmates were laughing at her.

“No, you’re not. You’re bleeding. Let me help.” Marge reached out a hand and pulled Sansa up. Then she turned around and yelled at the kids who were making fun of Sansa.

After that, Marge appointed herself as Sansa’s personal caretaker, never letting her out of her sight, determined to keep Sansa out of trouble. From that moment on, Sansa and Marge were best friends.

That was before popularity and Duffs got involved. Marge ended up being curvy and petite, along with a perfect tan and eyebrows. Sansa became well...the opposite.  To see them separately, no one would ever think the two of them were close. No one would guess the pretty Homecoming Queen was almost like a sister to the tall, soul seeking ginger who resembled Boy George.

But they were best friends. Marge had been there for Sansa through everything. She’d even stuck by her freshman year after Sansa had her heart broken for the first--and if she had anything to do with it, _only_ \--time. She never let Sansa isolate herself or drown in self misery. Despite the fact that Marge could easily find prettier, cooler, more popular friends, she stayed with her.

So when Marge asked Sansa to drive her home after cheer practice on Wednesday afternoon, she agreed. After all, Marge had done for her over the past twelve years, the least she could do was give her lift every now and then.

Sansa waited in the cafeteria, staring at the tacky red and gold colored walls, attempting to finish her calculus homework. She was in the middle of a complicated problem when she felt a hand on her shoulder. That skin-crawly thing happened, and she knew exactly who was behind her.

_Great. Just fucking great._

Sansa jerked away from Jon’s hand and spun around to face him, gripping her pencil like a dart and aiming it right at his Adam’s apple.

He didn’t even flinch. His brown eyes examined the pencil with feigned curiosity and he said, “Interesting. Is this how you greet all the boys you like?”

“I _don’t_ like you.”

“Does that mean you love me, then?”

Sansa despised the smooth, confident way he talked. A lot of girls thought it was sexy, but it kinda reminded her those forgettable MCU villains she couldn’t remember the names to save her life.

“It means that I _hate_ you,” Sansa snapped. “And if you don’t stay the fuck away from me, I’ll report you  for sexual harassment.”

“Might be a hard case,” Jon mused. He swiped the pencil away from her and began twirling it between his fingers. “Especially considering you’re the one who kissed me. Technically, I could report _you_ for harassment.”

Sansa gritted her teeth, still hating to even think about it, not even bothering to remind him that he’d been more than willing to participate. “Give me back my pencil,” Sansa muttered.

“I don’t know,” he said. “With you, this could be classified as a dangerous weapon...along with glasses of orange crush. Interesting choice, by the way. I’d always pegged you for more of a Sprite girl. You know... _plain._ ”

Sansa glared at him, hoping Jon would spontaneously combust. No such luck. She grabbed her textbooks and notepads off the table. Jon dodged her attempt to stomp on his foot and stared after her as she marched down the hallway. She was halfway to the gym, where Marge, the cheer captain, should be wrapping up practice soon when Jon caught up with her.

“Oh, come on, Duffy. That was just a joke. Lighten up.”

“It wasn’t funny.”

“Your sense of humor needs some work, then,” Jon suggested. “Most girls find my jokes charming.”

“Those girls must have IQs low enough to trip over.”

He laughed.

Apparently, _Sansa_ was the funny one.

“Hey, you never told me why you were upset the other night,” he said. “You were too busy shoving your tongue down my throat. So what was the problem?”

“None of your--” Sansa began but stopped quickly. “Hey! I didn’t...there was no tongue!” A shiver of fury ran through Sansa as she noticed Jon’s mischievous smile. “You son of a bitch! Get the fuck out of here. Gods, why are you stalking me? I thought Jon Snow didn’t chase girls. I thought they chased him, right?”

“You’re right. Jon Snow doesn’t chase girls, and I’m not chasing you,” he said. “I’m here waiting for my sister. She’s making up a test for Mr. Reed. I just saw you and 

thought--”

“What? Thought you’d torture me a little more?” Sansa clenched her fists. “Leave me the hell alone. You’ve already made me miserable.”

“How have I done that?” Jon asked, sounding a little surprised.

Sansa didn’t want to answer. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that _Duff_ was tormenting her because of him. He’d enjoy it too much.

Instead, Sansa ran towards the gym doors and thankfully Jon didn’t follow her this time. She sank down on the floor as soon as she got inside.

“Great practice, girls!” Marge cried from the opposite side of the gym. “Okay, the next basketball game is Friday. I want you all to practice the dance, and Ros, work on those high kicks. All right?”

The curvy and petite squad nodded in agreement.

“Awesome,” Marge smiled. “See you later, girls. Go Dragons!”

“Go Dragons!” the other cheerleaders echoed as they separated. Most of them hurried to the locker room, but some headed toward the doors, chatting excitedly amongst one another.

Marge skipped over to Sansa. “Hey, Sans. Sorry, we went a little over time. Do you mind if I change before we get out of here? I feel a little stinky.”

“I don’t care,” Sansa muttered.

“What’s wrong?” Marge asked, voice filled with suspicion.

“Nothing, Marge. Go change.”

“Sansa, I can tell--”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Sansa looked down at the ground. She didn’t want to talk about Jon again. Marge would probably defend him again just like before. “I’m fine, okay?” Sansa smiled, softening her voice. “Long day. Headache.”

Marge still looked skeptical as she walked to the locker room, filled with less pep.

_I’m a total bitch. She only wants to make sure I’m okay and I shut her out. I shouldn’t take my anger at Jon out on her-even if she thinks he’s a fucking prince._

But when Marge came out of the locker room in her hoodie and jeans, her pep was back. She swung her cheer bag over her shoulder and came to where Sansa was waiting, with a smile on her spotless, smooth face. “Sometimes, I cannot believe the shit I hear in there,” she said. “You ready to go, Sans?”

Sansa nodded and pushed against the gym doors to out into the hallway, praying that Jon was no longer there.  Marge must’ve noticed her anxiety. Sansa could read the concern on her face. But Marge didn’t bring up her worries, instead saying “So, okay, Ros is _totally_ gonna get a reputation for as a whore.”

“Doesn’t she already have one?”

“Well, yeah,” Marge admitted, “but it’s about to get worse. She’s dating that junior football player--you know, what’s his name--”

“Jory Cassel?”

“Yeah him, anyway she just told some guy from Westerland High that she’d take him to Basketball Homecoming. I don’t know why she does this stuff to herself. You, Dany, and I will have front-row seats for all the drama that will ensue that night. BTW, what are you wearing to the dance?”

“Nothing.”

“Hot, but I doubt they’ll let you in naked, Sans.” They were walking through the maze of tables in the cafeteria on the way to the parking lot.

“No. I mean Dany and I aren’t going to Homecoming,” Sansa replied.

“Of course you are,” Marge protested.

Sansa shook her head. “Dany is grounded. I promised her that I’ll be coming over and we’re going to watch girly movies.”

Marge looked flabbergasted as they pushed through the gold door and entered the cold student parking lot. “What? But Dany loves Basketball Homecoming. It’s her favorite prom and Football Homecoming.”

Sansa smiled in spite of herself. “And Sadie Hawkins.”

“Why didn’t I know about this?” Homecoming is getting close. Why didn’t you guys tell me?”

Sansa shrugged. “Sorry. I didn’t even think about it. And I think Dany is still moping. She might not want to talk about not being able to go.”

“But ...who will I go with now?”

“Um, a boy,” Sansa suggested. “Marge, it’s not as if it’ll be hard for you to get a date.” She fished her car keys out of her right pocket and unlocked the doors to her Honda Civic.

“Right, who the hell wants to go with Kraken breaker?”

Oh, the Theon Greyjoy relationship from sophomore year. Sansa remembered Marge crying to her and Dany after her first timewith Theon. Theon had it confused when his parents were supposed to come home and convinced Marge it’d be okay to have sex while they were gone. They were going at it, and then Marge heard his parents’ voices coming close to the door. She had maneuvered herself off of him in lightning speed but not without consequence. She broke his self proclaimed “ladykiller.” Theon screamed loudly and his parents rushed in to see him groaning in pain along with Marge scrambling to put her clothes on. Theon wasn’t able to do anything for six months and the relationship ended with Marge being known as the Kraken breaker. Even though, there were no accidents since.

“You are _not_ a Kraken breaker.”

“What would you call it Sans?”

“An accident that was unforeseen,” Sansa spoke softly.

“Besides,” Marge said, ignoring her, “it’s way better to go with you guys.” She climbed into the passenger’s seat and wrapped herself in the blanket Dany used a few nights ago. “Damn it, Sans. You really need to get that fucking heater fixed.”

“You really need to get your own car.”

Marge changed the subject. “Okay, so back to the dance If you two aren’t going...do you care if I crash your movie fest? It could be a Girls’ Night In. We haven’t had one of those in a while.”

Sansa smiled. Marge was right. They hadn’t had a movie night in a long time, and it would be nice to hang out without the drama of boys or loud techno music. For once, Sansa might actually have fun on a Friday night. So Sansa reached for the volume on her stereo and said. “A week from Friday, it’s a date.”

* * *

 Friday of Girls’ Night In finally arrived, and Sansa was more than ready for a nice, relaxing evening with her best friends--and the wonderful Scottish James McAvoy, of course. Sansa shoved the copy of _Becoming Jane_ that Dany had given her this Christmas, a t-shirt and shorts, and her toothbrush in her backpack. Marge was bringing the kettle corn, and Dany promised to have big bowls of cookies n cream ice cream.

_Maybe my butt will finally emerge from the deep, dark depths._

But naturally, the day couldn’t all be fantastic. Mr. Lannister, Sansa’s favorite teacher who taught AP English, made sure of that during final period.

“So, that’s _The Scarlet Letter,”_ he said, closing his book.

“Did you enjoy it class?”

A low rumble responded in the negative around the classroom, but Mr. Lannister didn’t seem to care.

“Well, because Hawthorne’s work is so extraordinary and applicable to contemporary society, I want each of you to write a report pertaining to the novel.” He ignored all the loud sighs. “The report can be about any part of the book--a character, a scene, a theme--but I want it to be very well thought out. I will also be allowing you to work in pairs”--the class buzzed with excitement--” which I will assign.” The excitement vanished.

Sansa knew she was in trouble when Mr. Lannister pulled out his roll sheet. That meant he would be assigning partners based on alphabetical order, and since there were no kids whose last names that started with an S followed by _O, P, Q, R, S,_  her partner was bound to be--

“Jon Snow will work with Sansa Stark.”

 _Shit_.

Sansa had managed to steer clear of Jon for a week and a half--since the day he’d annoyed her after school--but Mr. Lannister had to go and screw that up.

He rattled off the last few names on his list before saying, “I expect the reports to be no fewer than five pages long--and that’s twelve point font, double-spaced, Ros. Don’t pull that again.” He laughed good-naturedly. “Now, I want partners to work together. Both must contribute to the report. And be creative, people! Have fun!”

“Not likely,” Sansa muttered to Dany, who sat beside her.

“Oh, I think you’re lucky, Sansa,” she said. “I’d be thrilled if Jon was my partner. But my heart belongs to Satin. It is _so_ unfair that Marge gets to work with him.” She glanced over at Marge’s assigned seat across the classroom. “She’ll probably get to see his house and bedroom and everything. Do you think she’ll say some good things about me if I ask? Maybe she’ll be, like, my wing girl!”

Sansa didn’t bother answering.

“The reports are due in exactly one week!” Mr. Lannister announced over the chatter. “So, please work on them this weekend.”

The bell rang and the whole class stood up at the same time. Tiny but mighty Mr. Lannister walked over to the side to avoid being trampled by the stampede toward the door. Dany and Sansa joined the crowd and Marge caught up with them just as they stepped into the hall.

“This is bullshit.” she hissed. “An essay over nothing. I don’t want to pick a topic. That’s Mr. Lannister’s job! What is the point of this damn assignment if he can’t even give us something to write about It’s ridiculous.”

“But you get to work with Satin, and--”

“Please, Dany, don’t start that crap,” Marge rolled her eyes. “He. Is. Gay. It isn’t gonna happen, okay?”

“You never know! So you won’t play wing girl for me?”

“I’ll meet you guys in the cafeteria,” Sansa spoke up, turning in the direction of the lockers. “I need to grab a couple of things.”

“Cool.” Marge grabbed Dany by the wrist and pulled her toward the other hallway. “We’ll meet you by the snack machines, ‘kay Sans? Come on, Dany.” And the two left Sansa alone in the packed corridor.

Sansa pushed her way past the loud jocks and smooching couples--

 _PDA make me feel so uncomfortable--_ and headed for the science hallway. It took a few minutes to get to her locker, which, like the rest of the tacky school, was painted red and gold. She spun her combination and yanked open the door. She smiled at the pictures of her and her friends, of her old dog Lady, and her parents. Behind her, a group of cheerleaders skipped in the hall shouting, “Go Dragons! Dragons! Dragons!”

She’d just grabbed her coat and switched out her books and was about to close the door when _he_ showed up. If she were honest, she had expected him to show up earlier.

“Looks like we’re partners, Duffy.”

Sansa kicked the locker shut with a little too much force. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Jon grinned, running his fingers through his dark curls as he leaned against the locker next to her’s. “So, your place or mine?”

“What?”

“To do the assignment this weekend,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t be getting any ideas, Duffy. I’m not chasing you. I’m just being a good student. Jon Snow doesn’t chase girls. They--”

“Chase you. Yeah, I know.” Sansa pulled on her coat over her long sleeve shirt. “If we have to do this, I was thinking we’d--”

“Jon!” A skinny blonde Sansa didn’t recognize (most likely a freshman) threw herself at him right in front of Sansa. She stared at Jon with big sappy eyes. “Will you dance with me at Homecoming tonight?”

“Of course, Val,” he said running his hand down her back. He was tall enough to look down her shirt without any problem. _Perverted bastard._ “I’ll save a dance just for you, okay?”

“Really?”

“Would I lie?”

“Oh, thanks, Jon!” He bent down, and Val gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before scampering off, not looking at Sansa once.

Jon turned his attention back to her. “You were saying?”

Through gritted teeth, Sansa growled, _“I was thinking we’d meet at my place.”_

“What’s wrong with my house?” he asked. “Are you afraid it’s haunted, Duffy?”

“Of course not. I’d just prefer to work at my house. Only the Gods know what kind of diseases I could get just stepping foot in your bedroom.” Sansa shook her head. “So, my house, okay? Tomorrow afternoon at, like three. Call before you show up.”

Sansa didn’t give him a chance to respond. If Jon had a problem, she could write the paper herself. She walked off and headed towards the cafeteria.

Sansa found Marge and Dany waiting for her by the old vending machines.

“I don’t get it, Marge,” Dany was saying. She slipped a dollar into the only working machine and waited for her Sunkist to drop into the slot at the bottom. “Don’t you have to stay and cheer for the game?”

“Nope. I told the girls that I couldn’t make it tonight, so one of our alternates, this cute little freshman, is taking my place. She’s been wanting to cheer all year, and she’s got skills, but there just hasn’t been a place for her until now. They’ll be fine without me.”

Sansa stood right next to them before Dany spotted her. “There’s Sansa! Let’s get the heck out of here! Woohoo! Girls Night In!”

Marge rolled her eyes.

Dany pushed open the gold door that led to the parking lot, smiling from ear to ear, and said, “You guys are the best. Like, _really_ the best. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Cry into your pillow every single night,” Marge said.

“Think you other friends were ‘really the best,” Sansa offered, returning Dany’s smile. She wasn’t going to let Jon Snow drag her down.

_No way! This is my night with the girls! He’s not going to screw it up for me!_

“You didn’t forget that ice cream promise, did you Dany?”

“I remember. Cookies n Cream.”

They crossed the parking lot and climbed into Sansa’s car. Quickly, Dany wrapped herself in the old blanket, and Marge, shivering look visibly jealous as she pulled on her seat belt. Soon, they were speeding away from Kings Landing High, like prisoners free from their cells.

“I can’t believe you weren’t nominated for Homecoming Queen this time, Marge,” Dany sounded off from the backseat. “I was so sure you would be.”

“Nah. I got voted queen at Football Homecoming. There’s a rule about people winning for than once in the same year. I wasn’t eligible to be nominated this time. It’s gonna be Ros or Jeyne, I’m sure.”

“Do you think they’ll fight if one of them wins?” Dany sounded worried.

“Doubt it,” Marge replied. “Jeyne couldn’t care less about that kind of shit. Ros is the competitive one...I really was looking forward to seeing the drama tonight, though. Did I tell you that Ros is thinking of meeting up with Jon Snow, too?”

“No!”Dany and Sansa cried in unison.

“Yep,” Marge nodded. “I guess she’s really trying to make her boyfriend jealous or something. She’s dating Jory Cassel, taking a Westerland High guy to our dance, and telling everyone she has the hots for Jon. She claims they fooled around after a party recently--I guess her boyfriend doesn’t know about that yet--and she’s thinking of doing it again. She said it was amazing.”

“He slept with her?’ Dany gasped.

“He sleeps with everyone,” Sansa said, turning the car onto 5rh Street. “If it has a vagina, he’ll screw it.”

“Ew! Sansa!” Dany yelped. “Don’t say the...the _V_ word.”

“Vagina, vagina, vagina,” Marge said flatly. “Get over it, Dany. You have one. You can call it what it is.”

Dany’s cheeks were the color of tomatoes. “There’s no reason to talk about _it_. It’s crude and...personal.”

Marge ignored her and turned to face Sansa, “He might be a player, but he’s pretty damn sexy. Even you have to admit that, Sans. I bet he’s awesome in bed. I mean, you made out with him. Was he amazing? Can you really blame Ros for wanting to hook up with him?”

“You made out with Jon?” Dany croaked, choking on her own excitement. “What? When? Why didn’t you tell me, Sansa?”

Sansa glared at Marge.

“She’s embarrassed,” Marge explained, fluffing the back of her wavy locks. “Which is dumb because I bet she had a blast kissing him.”

“I did not have a blast.” Sansa scoffed.

“Was he a good kisser?” Dany asked. “Tell me, tell me, tell me! I really want to know!”

“Yes, if you must know, he was. But that doesn’t make it any less disgusting.”

“But,” Marge interjected, “with your experience, answer my last question. Can you really blame Ros for wanting to hook up with him?”

“I don’t have to.” Sansa switched on her turn signal. “She’ll blame herself when she gets a venereal disease...or when her boyfriend finds out about it. Whichever comes first.”

“And this is exactly why I wanted to go to the dance,” Marge sighed. “We could have witnessed it all firsthand...like Kings Landing’s own episode of _Gossip Girl._  Ros’ boyfriend would be getting pissed and plotting revenge as his unfaithful girlfriend screws the hottest guy in school, and Sansa, hiding her secret love for Jon, would mope and pretend to hate him while silently pining for his super-sexy-hot kiss again.”

Sansa’s jaw dropped. “I would _not_ be pining for anything of the sort!”

Dany snorted with laughter from the backseat, putting her hand in front of her mouth to hide a grin when Sansa scowled in the rearview.

“Oh, well,” Marge sighed. “I’m sure we’ll hear all about the drama on Monday.”

“Or tomorrow if the story is good enough,” Dany said. “Jeyne and Gilly never keep gossip to themselves. If it gets crazy, you know they’ll call us and tell us what we missed. I’m sure that they will.” She smiled. “I hope they give lots of details. I can’t believe I’m missing my last Homecoming.”

“At least you’re not missing it alone, Dany,” Sansa spoke softly.

A few seconds later, Sansa pulled into the Targaryens’ driveway. She yanked her keys from the ignition and declared “Let the Girls’ Night In officially begin.”

“Yay!” Dany jumped out of the car and ran to her front porch. She pushed open the door and went inside, with Sansa and Marge following behind, shaking their heads in amusement.

* * *

 “What time will your parents get here, Dany?” Sansa mumbled through a bite of cheese pizza.

“Mom will be home at six-thirty and Dad should get here a little after six.” Dany was waiting for them to finish the pizza at the bottom of the stairs, ready to go to her bedroom and swoon over James McAvoy. “Dad started seeing a new patient today, though, he might be a little late.”

Mr. Targaryen was a therapist. More than once, Marge had threatened to ask him if he’d take Sansa as a patient for free. See if he could help work out her “issues.” _Not that Sansa had issues….._ But Marge said Sansa’s cynicism was the result of some kind of internal struggle. Sansa argued it was just her intelligence. And Dany ...well, Dany didn’t say anything. Even though it was only ever discussed teasingly, she always got a little awkward when the subject came up. With all the psychobabble she heard from her dad, she probably _did_ think Sansa’s constant negativity was part of an internal struggle.

Dany _hated_ negativity. Hated it so much, in fact, that she wouldn’t even say she hated it. That would have been too negative.

“Hurry, hurry! Are guys almost done with pizza or what?”

“Let’s get this party started.” Marge whooped after she swallowed the last bite of pizza, running past Dany and sped up the stairs.

Dany giggled like a maniac as she made an effort to catch up with Marge, but Sansa lagged behind, closing the pizza box, and then following them up the stairs at a regular walking pace. Once she reached the landing, she could her friends laughing and talking in the bedroom at the of the hall, but she didn’t follow their voices. Something else caught her attention first.

The door to the first bedroom, the one on the right, was wide open. Her brain screamed at her to ignore and walked past it, but her feet had a mind of their own. She stood in the open doorway, willing her eyes to look away. Sansa’s body refused to cooperate.

Perfectly made bed with the slightly torn, black comforter. Superhero posters covering every inch of wall. Blue light over the headboard. The room was almost exactly the way she’d remembered it, except there were no dirty clothes on the floor. The open closet was empty, and the Deadpool calendar, which used to hand over the computer desk, had been taken down. But the room still felt warm, as if he were still there. As if she was still fourteen.

_“Viserys, I don’t understand. Who was that girl?”_

_“No one. Don’t worry about it. She doesn’t mean anything to me.”_

_“But…”_

_“Shh...It’s not a big deal.”_

_“I love you Viserys. Don’t lie to me okay?”_

_“I wouldn’t.”_ _  
_

_“Promise?”_

_“Of course. Do you really think I’d hurt you, Sa--”_

“Sansa! Where the hell did you go?”

Marge’s voice made her jump. Quickly, she stepped out of the bedroom and shut the door, knowing she couldn’t walk past it every time she needed to pee tonight. “Coming.” Sansa managed to keep her voice normal. “Gods! Be patient for once in your life.”

Then with a painted smile, Sansa went to watch a movie with her friends.

 


	5. Blow Your Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Fire Begins
> 
> Chapter inspired by Blow Your Mind (Mwah) by Dua Lipa because of the interesting events that occur.  
> Highly recommend checking out the song and playing it towards the end. The rest of her music is amazing!!!
> 
> Enjoy:)

After processing it for a while, Sansa decided there was a lot of benefits to being a Duff.

  1. No point in worrying about her hair or makeup.
  2. No pressure to act cool she's not the one being watched.
  3. No boy drama.



She came up with benefit three while they were watching _Atonement_ in Dany’s bedroom. In the movie, poor Keira Knightley has to go through all of this damn tragedy with James McAvoy, but if she’d been unattractive, he never would have looked at her. She wouldn’t have gotten her heart broken. After all, everybody knows the “it’s better to have loved and lost…” spiel is a load of crap.

But theory applied to a lot of other movies too. If Kate Winslet was a Duff in _Titanic_ and Sansa would’ve been spared tears over  Leonardo DiCaprio’s inability of holding on to the stupid piece of plank.

_He could’ve fit too!_

Nicole Kidman wouldn’t have had to worry about Jude Law when he went off to war in _Cold Mountain_ if she had been a Duff.

Sansa watched her best friends go through boy drama all the time. Usually, the relationships ended with them crying (Dany) or screaming (Marge). She’d only had her heart broken once, but that was more than enough. So really, watching _Atonement_ with her friends made Sansa realize how thankful she should have been to be the Duff.

_Pretty screwed up, right?_

Unfortunately, being the Duff didn’t save Sansa from experiencing family drama.

* * *

 

She got home around one-thirty the next afternoon. She was still recovering from the sleepover-where none of them slept-and she could barely keep her eyes open. The sight of her house in a state of complete devastation woke her right up. Broken glass sparkling on the living room floor, the coffee table was upside down, like it had been kicked over, and --it took Sansa a minute to register it-beer bottles were scattered all around the room. For a second Sansa stood frozen in the door, worried someone had robbed the house. Then she heard Dad’s heavy snoring in his bedroom down the hall, and She knew the reality of the truth was much worse.

They didn’t live in a coat rack house, so it was fine to keep ones’ shoes on when they walked on the carpet. Today it was pretty much required. Glass, which Sansa figured out had come from several broken picture frames, crunched under her feet and made her way to the kitchen to get a trash bag--one would be necessary to clean up the chaos.

Sansa felt oddly numb as she moved through the house. She knew she should be freaking out. Dad had been sober for almost eighteen years, and the beer bottles made it pretty clear that his sobriety was in danger. But Sansa didn’t feel anything. Maybe because she didn’t know how to feel.

_What could have been bad enough to knock him off that wagon after so long?_

She found the answer on the kitchen table, neatly masked by a manila envelope.

“Separation papers…….”Sansa muttered as she examined the contents of the opened package. “What the fuck?” She stared down at her mother’s neat and cursive signature in a twisted state of shock. She had suspected it coming when her mom vanished for more than two months, she just got that feeling--but now?

_Really? She hadn’t even called to warn me! Or Dad._

“Damn it,” Sansa whispered, her fingers shaking. Dad hadn’t seen this coming. _Gods, no wonder he’s suddenly boozing it up. How could Mom do this to him? To either of us. Fuck this. Seriously. Fuck her._

Sansa tossed the envelope aside and went to the cabinet where they kept the cleaning supplies, struggling to fight off the tears stinging her eyes with no avail. Everything hurt. So much. She grabbed a garbage bag and headed into the demolished living room.

It hit Sansa all at once, causing a lump to rise in her throat as she reached for one of the empty beer bottles.

Mom wasn’t coming. Dad was drinking again. And she was _literally_ picking up the pieces. She gathered the largest shards of glass and the empty bottles and tossed them into the bag, trying to not think about her mom. Trying not to think about how she most likely had a perfect tan. Trying not to think of the cute twenty-two-year old Harry guy Aunt Lysa kept around her house that mom was probably screwing. Trying to not to think about the perfect signature she had used on those separation papers.

Sansa was angry at her. So fueled with fire and pain.

_How could she do this? How could she just send separation papers? Without coming home or warning us? Didn’t she know what it would do to Dad? And she didn’t spare a thought about me. Let alone call to prepare me for this._

Right then, as Sansa made her way through the living room, she decided that she hated her mother. Hated her for always being gone. Hated her for shocking them with those papers. Hated her for hurting Dad.

As she carried the trash bag full of destroyed picture frames into the kitchen, Sansa wondered if Dad had managed to break those memories--the ones of him and Mom that the photos had captured. Probably not. That’s why he’d needed the booze. When even that hadn’t crossed her mother’s face from his mind, he must have thrashed around the room like a drunken madman.

Sansa had never seen her father drunk, but she knew why he’d quit. She had overheard her parents talk about it when she was little. Apparently, Dad had a bad temper when he was smashed. So bad that Mom got frightened and begged him to quit. Which Sansa guessed explained the overturned coffee table.

But the idea of her father drunk...it just didn’t compute. She couldn’t even imagine him using a swear word more offensive than _damn._  But a bad temper? She couldn’t picture it.

Sansa prayed that he hadn’t cut himself on any of the glass. She didn’t blame him for this. She blamed her mother. Mom had done this to him. Leaving, disappearing, not calling, no warning. He never would have relapsed if he hadn’t seen those stupid papers. He would have been fine. Watching USA and reading _Crownlands News._ Not sleeping off a hangover.

Sansa cried as she sat the coffee table back up and vacuumed the smaller pieces of glass out of the carpet. She didn’t want to cry, she hated it. If she had to cry about anything, it wouldn’t have to do with the fact her parents were getting separated. That wasn’t shocking It wouldn’t have to do with her missing mother. She’d been gone for too long for that. She wouldn’t have even been mourning for the family she’d once had. She was happy with the way life was, just Dad and her. No. If Sansa to had to choose what to cry about, it would’ve been out of anger, fear, or selfishness She would’ve been crying because of what this all meant for _her. Sansa_ had to be the adult now. _She_ had to take care of Dad. But at the moment, her mom, living like a star in Vale, was acting selfishly enough for the both of them, so Sansa wiped at her eyes to stop any more tears from sliding.

She just rolled the vacuum back into the laundry room when she heard her phone ring.

“Hello?” Sansa asked.

“Good afternoon, Duffy.”

_Oh, shit…_

Sansa had forgotten about working with Jon on that stupid project. Of all people to see today, why does it have to be him? Why did this day hate her so much?

“It’s almost three,” he said. “I’m getting ready to drive over to your place. You told me to call before I left...I’m just being considerate.”

“You don’t even know what that means.” Sansa glanced down the hall in direction of Dad’s snores. The living room, while no longer a death trap, still looked rough, and there was no telling what kind of mood Dad would be in when he rolled out of bed. Sansa just knew it wouldn’t be a happy one. Sansa didn’t even know what she should say to him. “Look, on second thought, I’ll come to your house. I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”

* * *

 

Every town has that one house. The one that is so nice that it just doesn’t fit in. The house that’s so lavish that one may feel the owners are rubbing their wealth in others’ faces. Every town in the world has one particular house like that, and in Kings Landing that house belonged to the Snow family.

Sansa didn’t know if it could technically be called a mansion, but the house was three stories tall and had two balconies. 

_Balconies!_

Sansa had always gawked at the place a million times as she drove past, but she never thought she’d be going inside. On any other day, she would have been a little excited to see the interior. Not that she would tell anyone that or her obsession with HGTV. But her thoughts were still on the separation papers on her kitchen table that she couldn’t feel anything but anxiety and misery.

Jon met her at the front door, an annoyingly confident grin on his face. He leaned against the door frame, arms folded across his broad chest. He was wearing a dark gray button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And of course, he’d left the top three buttons undone. “Hello, Duffy.”

_Does he know how much that name bothers me?_

Sansa glanced at the driveway, which was empty except for her Honda Civic and Jon’s Mustang. “Where are your parents?”Sansa asked.

“Gone,” he replied with a wink. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

Sansa pushed past him and walked into the large foyer, rolling her eyes with disgust. Once her shoes were positioned neatly in the corner, she turned to Jon, who was watching her with vague interest. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Don’t you want the grand tour?”

“Not really.”

Jon shrugged. “It’s your loss. Follow me.” He led the way into the enormous living room, which was probably as big as Kings Landing High’s cafeteria. Two large pillars held up the ceiling, and three beige couches, along with two matching love seats, were arranged around the room. One one wall Sansa saw a huge flat-screen TV, and on another, she found on a giant fireplace. January sun spilled in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, lighting the space with a natural, happy feeling. But Jon turned and started walking up the stairs, away from the comforting room.

“Where are you going?” Sansa demanded.

He looked over his shoulder at her with an exasperated sigh. “To my room, of course.”

“Can’t we write the paper down here?” she asked.

The corners of Jon’s mouth turned slightly upward as he hooked a finger over his belt. “We could, Duffy, but the writing will go much faster if I’m typing, and my laptop’s upstairs. You’re the one who said you wanted to get this over with.”

Sansa groaned and stomped up the stairs. “Fine.”

Jon’s room was on the top floor--one of the rooms with a balcony--and it was bigger than her living room. His king-size bed hadn’t been made yet, and video games were scattered on the floor beside his PlayStation 4, which was hooked into a big screen TV. Surprisingly, the room smelled nice.  It was a mixture of Jon’s Dolce & Gabbana cologne and recently washed clothes. The bookshelf that he walked toward overflowed with books by different authors, from Ernest Hemingway to Henry Fielding.

Jon bent over at the waist to look at the bookshelf, and Sansa looked away from his Diesels as he pulled his own copy of _The Scarlet Letter_ off the shelf and moved to sit on his bed. He gestured for Sansa to join him, and she did, reluctantly. “Okay,” he said, thumbing absently through his hardcover book. “What should we write the paper on? Any ideas?”

“I don’t--”

“I was thinking we could do an analysis of Hester,” he suggested. “It sounds cliche, but I mean an in-depth characterization. Mainly, why did she have the affair? Why did she sleep with Dimmesdale? Did she love him, or was she just promiscuous?”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Oh Gods, do you always go for the simplest answer? Hester is way more complicated than that. Neither of those choices shows any imagination.”

Jon looked at her with one raised eyebrow. “All right,” he said slowly. “If you’re so smart, then why did she do it? Enlighten me.”

“For distraction.”

Maybe it was a little far-fetched. But Sansa kept thinking about that damn manila envelope. Thinking of her selfish mother. Wondering what her drunk father was like for the first time in eighteen years. Her mind searched for anything- _anything_ \--that would distract her from the painful thoughts, so was it too ridiculous to think that Hester felt the same way? She was lonely, surrounded by hypocritical Puritans, and married to a completely creepy, absentee English guy.

“She just wanted something to get her mind off the bad shit in her life,” Sansa mumbled. “Some way to escape…”

“If that’s the case, that didn’t go well for her. It all backfired in the end.”

Sansa didn’t really hear him. Her mind was rushing back to a night no long ago, a night when she’d found a way to push her worries out of her head. She remembered the way her thoughts had gone silent, letting her body take over. She remembered the bliss of nothingness. She remembered how, even after it ended, she’d been so focused on what she’d done that her other worries barely existed.

“...so I guess that idea could make sense. It’s definitely a different angle, and Lannister likes creativity. We might get an A.”

Jon turned to look at her, and his expression grew suddenly concerned. “Duffy, are you okay? You’re staring off into space.”

“Don’t call me Duffy.”

“Fine. Are you okay, _Sans-_?”

Before he could finish saying her name, Sansa closed the space between them. Quickly, her lips moved against his. The mental and emotional emptiness took over instantly, but physically, she was more alert than ever. Jon’s surprise didn’t last as long as it did before, and his hands were on her in seconds. Her fingers tangled in his soft curls, and Jon’s tongue darted into Sansa’s mouth and became a new weapon in their war.

Once again, her body took complete control of everything. Nothing existed at the corners of her mind; no annoying thoughts harassed her. Even the sounds of Jon’s stereo, which had been playing some piano rock she didn’t recognize, faded away as her sense of touch heightened.

Sansa was fully conscious of Jon’s hand as it slid up her torso and moved to cup her breast. With an effort, she pushed him away from her. His brown eyes were wide as he leaned back. “Please don’t slap me again,” he said.

“Shut up.”

She needed to stop there. She needed to stand up and leave the room. Let this kiss be the end of it. But she didn’t. The mind-numbing sensation she got from kissing him was so euphoric-such a high-that she couldn’t stand to give it up that fast. She may hate Jon Snow, but he held the key to her escape, and right now she wanted him...she _needed_ him.

Wordlessly, Sansa pulled her t-shirt over her head and threw it onto Jon’s bedroom floor. He didn’t have a chance to say anything before Sansa put her hands on his shoulders and shoved him onto his back. A second later, she was straddling him and they were kissing again. His fingers undid the clasp on her bra and tossed it, joining her shirt on the floor

Sansa didn’t care. She didn’t feel self-conscious or shy. He already knew she was the Duff, and it wasn’t like she had to impress him.

She unbuttoned his shirt as he pulled the scrunchie from her hair and let the red curtain fall around them. Marge had been right. Jon had a great body. The skin pulled tight over his sculpted chest, and her hands drifted down his muscular arms with admiration.

His lips moved to her neck, giving her a moment to breathe. She could smell his cologne this close to him. As his mouth traveled down her shoulder, a thought pushed through the exhilaration. Sansa wondered why he hadn’t shoved her-Duffy-away in disgust.

Then again, she quickly remembered, Jon wasn't known for _rejecting_ girls. And _she_ was the one who should be disgusted.

But his lips pressed into hers again, and that tiny, fleeting thought died. Acting on instinct, Sansa pulled on Jon’s lower lip with her teeth, and he moaned quietly. His hands moved over her ribs, sending chills up her spine. Bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss.

As Jon flipped her over onto her back, Sansa seriously considered stopping. He looked down at her, and his skilled hand grasped the zipper on her jeans. Her dormant brain stirred, asking herself if things were going too far. She was thinking about pushing him away, ending it right where they were.

_But why stop now? What do I stand to lose? What can I possibly gain? How will I feel about this in an hour...or sooner?_

Before she could come up with answers, Jon had her jeans and underwear off. He pulled a condom from his pocket, and then his pants were on the floor, too. All of a sudden, they were having sex, and her thoughts became muted again.

* * *

 Sansa was only fourteen when she lost her virginity to Viserys Targaryen. He’d recently turned eighteen, she knew he was too old for her. Still, as a freshman in high school, she wanted a boyfriend. She wanted to be liked and fit in, and Viserys was a senior with a car. At the time, she thought of that as perfection.

In the three months they were together, Viserys never took Sansa out on a real date. Once or twice, they made out in the back of a dark movie theater, but they never went to dinner or bowling or anything like that. They spent most of their time sneaking around so that their parents and his sister, who later became one of her best friends, wouldn’t find out about them. Sansa actually found that part, the secrecy, fun and sexy. It was like a forbidden romance--like _Romeo and Juliet,_ which she’d read in English class that year.

They slept together several times, and while Sansa really didn’t enjoy the actual sex, the sensation of closeness, of connection, felt comforting to her. When Viserys touched her like that, she knew he loved her. She knew sex was a beautiful, passionate thing, it was right to be with him.

Sleeping with Jon Snow was entirely different. Sansa definitely got more physical pleasure out of it, but the closeness and the love were missing. She felt dirty. She felt like she’d done something wrong and shameful, but at the same time, she felt so good. Alive. Free. Wild. Her mind was clear like someone hit the refresh button. The euphoria wouldn’t last forever, but the filthy regret was worth the momentary escape.

“ _Wow_ …”Jon said. They were lying in his bed just a few minutes after they’d finished, with a foot or more space between their bodies. “I definitely wasn’t expecting that.”

_Seven hells. He ruins everything when he talks._

Annoyed, and still wading through her emotions, Sansa sneered. “What? Ashamed you screwed the Duff?”

“No.” She was surprised by how serious he sounded. “I’m never ashamed by anyone I sleep with. Sex is a natural chemical reaction. It always happens for a reason. Who am I to dictate who experiences the joys of sharing my bed?” He didn’t see her roll her eyes as he continued. “No, I just meant that I’m shocked. I was honestly starting to believe that you hated me.”

“I do hate you,” Sansa assured him, kicking off the covers and moving to pick up her clothes.

“You must not hate me too much,” Jon said, rolling onto his elbow and watching her dress. “You did pretty much throw yourself at me. Generally, hatred doesn’t inspire that kind of passion.”

Sansa pulled on her t-shirt. “Believe me, Jon, I definitely hate you. I was just using you. You use people all the time, so I’m sure you understand.” She buttoned her jeans and grabbed her scrunchie from the nightstand. “This was fun, but if you ever tell anyone, I swear I’ll castrate you. Clear?”

“Why?” he asked. “Your reputation could improve if people found out you slept with me.”

“That might be true,” Sansa admitted. “But I have no desire to improve my reputation, especially not that way. So are you going to keep your mouth shut or do I need to find a sharp object now?

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” he said.

“You’re not a gentleman.” Sansa put her hair back up with the scrunchie in a bun. “That’s why I’m worried.” She glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall. Once she was sure that she looked normal--not guilty--she turned to face Jon again. “Hurry up and put your pants on. We need to finish this stupid essay.”

* * *

 It was a little after seven when Jon and Sansa finally finished the essay for English. Or at least, the rough draft. She made him promise that he’d e-mail her the draft later so she could edit it.

“You don’t trust me to get it done?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her as she put her shoes on in the foyer.

“I don’t trust you with anything,” Sansa replied.

“Except getting you off.” Jon was wearing that grin she despised. 

“So, was this a one-time thing, or will I be seeing you again?”

She started to snort, wanting to tell him he was dreaming if he honestly thought she’d be back, but then she remembered that she was about to go back home. The manila envelope would probably still be lying on her kitchen table.

“Sansa?” Jon asked. A shiver ran across her skin when he touched her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Sansa jerked out of his reach and moved towards the door. She’d gotten halfway out before she turned to him and said, with a moment of hesitation, “We’ll see.” Then she ran down the front steps.

“Sansa, wait.”

She clutched her jacket closer to her body, trying to fight the cold wind, and yanked open the door of her Honda Civic. He was behind her in seconds, but thankfully, he didn’t touch her this time. “What?” Sansa demanded as she slid into the front seat. “I need to get home.”

_Home, the last place I want to go…_

The winter sky had already turned black, but she could still see Jon’s brown eyes in the darkness. They were exactly the color of the sky before the Sunset for the day. He crouched by her door to get to her eye level, and the way he was looking at her made her feel her feel really _uncomfortable_. “You didn’t answer the other question.”

“What other question?”

“Are you all right?”

Sansa scowled at him for a long moment, assuming he was just trying to be a pain in her ass. But something about his lighted eyes made her falter. “It doesn’t matter if I am or not.” She whispered. She started the car, and he darted out of the way when she moved to slam the door shut. “Bye, Jon.”

And she drove away.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. Fun fact about writing this chapter: I had a hard time picking specific cologne for Jon because I want him to smell...Manly I guess? Plus with the fact I haven't found a favorite that I've smelled in person on a guy. (sorry if that sounds weird) So I picked Dolce & Gabbana even though I have no idea what it smells like, because Kit.
> 
> What do you think would be a good cologne for Jon Snow?


	6. Hotter Than Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to get complicated.
> 
> Chapter title inspired by the song Hotter Than Hell by Dua Lipa. I think this perfectly describes the complication about to arise. Again, highly recommend listening to it!
> 
> Enjoy:)

When Sansa got home, Dad was still in his room. Sansa finished cleaning the living room, avoiding the kitchen altogether, and ran upstairs to take a shower. The hot water didn’t wash away that _crawly_ feeling Jon left on her skin, but it did relax some muscles that were forming tense knots in her back and shoulders. She just hoped the goosebumps would wash away in time.

Sansa had just finished putting on her t-shirt and shorts, when she heard Marge’s familiar ringtone starting to play. She leaned over to her nightstand and answered it.

“Hey, Sans,” Marge said in her ear. “So are you and Jon done?”

“What?”

“You two were working on the English paper today, weren’t you?” she asked. “I thought he was meeting you at your place.”

“Oh,...right. Well, I wound up going over to his house instead.” Sansa prayed she didn’t sound guilty.

“OMG, you mean the mansion?” Marge asked. “Lucky! Did you walk out onto one of the balconies? Ros said that’s half the reason she wants to hook up with him again. Last time, it was in the backseat of his Mustang, but she really wants to see the inside of that house.”

“Is there a point to this conversation, Marge?”

“Oh, yeah,” she laughed. “Sorry. It’s no big deal. I just want to make sure you were all right. I know you hate him, I wanted to make sure you were fine...and that he was okay, too. You didn’t stab the boy, did you? I mean, I totally disapprove of murdering hotties, but if you need help burying the body, you know I’ll bring the shovel.”

“Thanks, Marge” Sansa giggled. “But he’s alive. Today wasn’t as bad as I expected. Actually…” Sansa almost told her everything. How her parents were getting seperated and how, in a moment of desperation, she’d kissed Jon Snow, _again_. How her body felt messy all over, yet at the same time amazingly free. The words lingered on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t make them come out. She didn’t want bring Marge and Dany in this mess. Marge worried too much already and had so much on her plate...Sansa wanted to protect them and this way the best way.

“ _Actually_ what, Sans?”she asked, bringing Sansa out of her thoughts.

“Um,...nothing. He had some fantastic ideas for the paper. That’s it. He’s a really avid Hawthorne reader. ”

“Well, that’s good. I know you find smart boys sexy. Are you gonna admit you want him now?”

Sansa froze, not knowing how to respond, images starting to replay in her mind. Thankfully, Marge was laughing already.

“I’m teasing, but I’m glad things turned out okay. I was a little worried about you today. I just had this feeling that something bad was going to happen. I guess I was just being paranoid.”

“Probably.”

“I’ve got to go. Dany wants me to call her with all the details of my meeting with Satin. She just doesn’t get it, does she? Anyway, I’ll see you at school on Monday.”

“Okay. Bye, Marge.”

“See you later, Sans.”

The call ended and Sansa placed it back on the nightstand before flopping backwards in her bed, feeling like a total liar. Technically, she hadn’t lied, she’d only with-held to protect Marge and Dany, but still… withholding from Marge, was, like a mortal sin. Especially when she made such a point of opening herself to Sansa’s problems.

Sansa would tell her eventually. Well, about her parents, at least. Sansa just needed to deal with it herself before she sprung it on Marge and Dany. The Jon thing, though... _Gods,_ she hoped they’d never find out.

She slid out of bed and started folding her clean clothes, like she did every night. Strangely, she wasn’t as stressed as she expected herself to be. Sansa hated to admit it, but she definitely had Jon to thank for that.

* * *

 Dad didn’t leave his bedroom for the rest of the weekend. Sansa knocked a couple of times Sunday afternoon and offered to make him something eat, but he just murmured a refusal, never opening the door between them. His isolation terrified her. He must have been depressed about Mom, and ashamed he’d fallen off the wagon to top it off, but Sansa knew it this wasn’t healthy. She decided that if he hadn’t emerged by Monday afternoon, she would bust into his room and...well, she didn’t know what she’d do next. In the meantime, she just tried to think of her father or the separation papers on the kitchen table.

Surprisingly, that was pretty easy.

She pulled up and walked up to the door. She secretly hoped despite seeing the car in the driveway, no one was home. She knocked three times and looked at her TOMS while she waited.

“Hello, Duffy. What are you doing here?” Jon rose an eyebrow, he looked like he had just woken up and Sansa felt a little guilty.

“I...urm...I forgot something yesterday.”

“What’d you forget?”

“My pen.”

“...Duffy, you came all the way over here for a pen? You could’ve texted me and I would’ve given it to you in class tomorrow.”

_Think of something! Anything!_

“It’s from my mom. She gave it to me when I turned sixteen, I always use it….” Sansa struggled. It wasn’t a lie, the pen had been missing. It was a beautiful, ballpoint pen. It was light blue with her name engraved on it in silver. Her two favorite colors, Mom always paid attention to details of the sort.

_Why am I telling Jon this…? I should just go...this was so stupid to come over here._

Sansa began to walk away when she felt Jon’s hand softly catch her wrist. She looked down at his hand covering her wrist and then back up at him. His brown eyes seemed _sad._

“You can look around. I don’t mind.”

“...Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Sansa slowly followed him up the stairs and he opened the door to his room for her.

“I’ll...er…wait out here. Take the time you need.” Jon’s lips upturned, not quite a smile or frown.

“Thanks…”Sansa blinked and went into the room. She looked under the bed, it only had shoes underneath it. Tried the bookshelves-nothing there either. The only thing she saw that caught her eye, was a forgotten white sweater. She felt….she didn’t know how to describe the _stupid_ feeling. All she knew, was that she needed to leave.

Sansa left the room and walked down the hall quickly, when she heard Jon’s voice call her name.

“Sansa? Did you find the pen?”

_No...I was just reminded that it was silly to come over in the first place._

“No, I didn’t...thank you for letting me...um...look for it.” Sansa spoke amicably, trying to control at the emotional ticks in her face.  “I’m going to head back...don’t forget to send me the rough draft.” She continued for a few paces before Jon’s hand was on her shoulder. It was giving her that shivery feeling again. Sansa turned and saw Jon looking at her with his eyes narrowed.

_My stupid eyes betrayed me!_

“Anything else you’re missing?” He asked releasing her shoulder and getting a little bit closer.

“Nope. I have everything I need.” She replied with a fake smile, challenging him.

“Cool. Any reason besides the pen, you _came_ here for?” Jon’s thumb began caressing Sansa’s arm and she closed her eyes. Praying that she had fallen asleep on the couch back home and this was all a silly dream/nightmare.

“Sansa?” she opened her eyes to see Jon’s face really close to her’s. “You got lost for a second.”

“Yes.” She looked at his lips and they curled into a knowing smile.

* * *

 Monday would quite interesting. What did one do after having a two-night stand (or in Sansa’s case, two-afternoon stand) with the school’s biggest playboy? Was she supposed to act nonchalant? Treat him with her normal undisguised hatred? Or, because she’d honestly enjoyed herself, should she act grateful? Tone down the contempt and be _friendly?_ Surely not. Jon had gotten just as much of the experiences as she had, minus the self-loathing.

By the time Sansa arrived at school Monday morning, she settled on avoiding Jon entirely.

“Are you okay, Sansa?” Dany asked as they walked out of Valyrian. “You’re acting...um, _weird_?”

Sansa’s spy skills weren’t slick, but she knew Jon walked past their classroom on his way to second period and she didn’t want to risk an awkward post-sex meeting in the hallway. She peered anxiously around the edge of the door, scanning for those unmistakable brown curls. But if Dany could tell something was up, Sansa was being way too obvious.

“It’s nothing,”Sansa lied, stepping out into the hall. She was relieved to not see him anywhere. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, okay,” Dany said without suspicion. “I must be imagining it, then.”

“You must be.”

Dany readjusted her headband over her blond hair which was starting to get long again. “Oh, Sansa, I forgot to tell you! I’m so excited!”

“Let me guess,” Sansa teased. “This has something to do with Satin Flowers, right? Did he ask you where you got your cute skinny jeans this time? Or how you style your short and fab hair?”

“No!” Dany giggled. “No...Actually, it’s my brother. He’s coming home to visit us for the week, and he should be getting into Kings Landing by noon today. He’s going to pick me up from school this afternoon. I’m really excited to see him. It’s been, like, two and a half years since he left for college and--. Hey, Sansa, are you sure you’re okay?”

Sansa stood frozen in the middle of the hall. She could feel the blood draining from her face, and her hands became cold and started to shake. She felt a tightness in her chest. “I’m fine.” Sansa forced her feet to move again. “I just, um, thought I forgot something. It’s fine. Now, what were you saying?”

Danny nodded. “Oh, well, I’m so excited about Viserys! I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ve really, really missed him. It’ll be nice to hang out with him for a few days. Oh, and I think Myranda is coming with him. Did I tell you they just got engaged?”

“No. That’s great...I’ve gotta get to class, Dany.”

“Oh,...okay. Well, I’ll see you in English, Sansa.” Sansa was halfway down the hallway before Dany finished the sentence.

The sounds around her slowly faded as unwanted memories flooded into her head. It was like Dany’s words had broken the dam that held them back for so long.

_“So, you’re Sansa? The freshman bitch that’s been screwing my boyfriend?”_

_“Your boyfriend? I haven’t been-”_

_“Stay the hell away from Viserys.”_

Sansa’s face burned as the memories rushed back. Her feet moved so fast that she was sprinting to her AP government class. As if she could outrun the painful thoughts. As if they couldn’t chase her with a vengeance. But Viserys Targaryen would be back in Kings Landing for a week. Viserys Targaryen was engaged to Myranda. Viserys Targaryen..the boy who broke her heart.

She ran into the classroom just as the tardy bell rang. Mr. Lannister-Tarth glared at her, but she didn’t bother to look back. She took her seat at the back, trying desperately to focus on anything else.

But not even Dickon Tarly’s witty commentary on the legislative branch or the back of his adorable old-fashioned head could tempt her thoughts from Viserys and his bride to be.

Sansa barely heard a word Mr. Lannister-Tarth said all class, and when the bell rang, her page of notes, was barely legible.

_Why does there have to be so much drama? Can’t life be happy like a song?_

Sansa slouched toward the cafeteria, and found Marge and Dany waiting for her at their table. As always, Jeyne, Gilly, and Ros joined them. Jeyne was busy showing everyone her new Pandora bracelet, so Sansa’s sulkiness went unnoticed as she sank into her chair.

“Cute,” Marge commented, grinning at the bracelet. “Who got them for you?”

“Daddy,” Jeyne answered, stroking the charms on her silver bracelet. “He and Mom are competing for my love now. At first it was kind of annoying, but I’ve decided to take the high road and have fun with it.” She tossed back her dark hair. “I’m hoping for Michael Kors next.”

Everyone laughed.

“I didn’t get anything cool out of my parents’ divorce,”Marge said. “My dad didn’t really care if I loved him more, I guess.”

“That’s sad, Marge,” Dany murmured.

“Oh, not really.” Marge shrugged and starting picking at her gold fingernail polish. “Dad’s an idiot. I was thrilled when Mom kicked him out of the house. She shouts a lot less now, and when Mom’s happier, the world is happier. I mean I miss him, he’s been trying to get a job now that he’s no longer the trophy husband.”

“Divorces are depressing,” Dany sighed. “I’d be heartbroken if my parents split up. Wouldn’t you, Sansa?”

Sansa felt heat rush to her face, but Marge switched the subject, so she pretended she hadn’t heard Dany’s question. “Hey, Ros, what happened on Homecoming night? You never told us how that went down.”

Gilly giggled knowingly. “You haven’t told them yet, Ros?”

Ros rolled her eyes and twirled a strand of her strawberry-blond hair around her perfectly manicured finger.  “Oh Gods. Okay, so Jory is totally not speaking to me anymore, and Podrick…”

Her voice drifted into the background and Sansa’s mind wandered. As much she wanted to stop thinking of Viserys, she couldn’t bring herself to be interested in Ros’ boy troubles. It felt so vague and unimportant. So vapid, So indulgent. So empty.

But Sansa felt guilty for thinking it. That made her just as self-absorbed as Ros was. So Sansa tried her best to listen to the woes of Ros Mazin.

Then something Ros said caught Sansa’s full attention.

“...but I did make out with Jon for a little while afterward.”

“Jon?” Sansa asked.

Ros beamed at her, proud of what she viewed as an achievement.

“Yeah. After the fight with Jory, I wound up in the parking lot with Jon. We kissed in the back of his car for a while, but my mom called, so I had to go before we could do anything. Sucks right?”

“Sure.” Sansa replied and felt a strange sense of relief.

_Why?_

Sansa’s eyes moved across the cafeteria, searching for a few seconds before they located the back of a curly brown head inches above those around him. He sat with a group of friends--mostly girls naturally--at a long rectangular table on the other side of the room. He was wearing a tight black t-shirt that, while not really appropriate for the frigid temperatures of early February, showed off his perfect muscular arms. Arms that twined around her...that arms that had helped erase her stress…

“Did I tell you guys that my brother is coming to town?” Dany asked. “He and his fiancee are visiting for the week.”

Marge’s worried eyes immediately turned on Sansa and widened when she realized Sansa was on her feet. “Where are you going, Sans?”

Everyone at the table looked at her then, and she tried to sound convincing. “I just remembered,” She spoke. “I need to talk to Jon about our English project.” Screw avoiding him. She had a better, more helpful idea.

“Didn’t you finish that on Saturday?” Dany asked.

“We got started on it, but we didn’t finish the paper.”

“‘Cause you were too busy making out.” Marge teased, winking at her.

_Don’t look guilty. Don’t look guilty. Don’t look guilty._

“Making out?” Ros raised an eyebrow at her,

“Didn’t you hear?” Dany laughed, smiling good-naturedly at her. “Sansa is madly in love with Jon.”

Sansa faked a gagging noise and everyone laughed. “Yeah, right.” She said, making sure that her voice was full of irritation and disgust. “I can’t stand him. Gods, I’ve lost so much respect for Mr. Lannister since he made me work with him.”

“I’d be ecstatic if I were you,” Ros said, sounding a little bitter.

Gilly and Jeyne nodded in agreement.

“Anyway.” Sansa was feeling jumpy. “I need to talk to him about getting this done. I’ll see you all later, okay?”

“‘Kay,” Dany said, waving cheerfully.

Sansa hurried through the crowded cafeteria, not slowing down until she was within five feet of Jon’s table, where the only other male occupant was Satin Flowers. She paused for second, feeling a little hesitant.

One of the girls, a skinny blonde with Kylie Jenner lips, was rattling on about her crappy vacation in Essos, and Jon was listening with rapt attention--obviously trying to convince her of his sympathy. Annoyance erased Sansa’s insecurity, and she cleared her throat loudly, getting the whole groups’ attention.

The blonde was agitated and angry, but Sansa focused on Jon,who looked at her casually, like he would any other girl. She turned her chin up and said “I need to talk to you about our English paper.”

“Is it necessary?” Jon asked with a sigh.

“Yeah,” Sansa said “Right now. I’m not going to fail this stupid assignment because of your laziness.”

He rolled his eyes and got to his feet. “Sorry ladies,” he said to the tragedy-stricken girls. “I’ll see you tomorrow. You’ll save a seat for me?”

“Of course we will,” a tiny black haired girl squeaked.

As Jon and Sansa walked away, she heard Blonde Kylie hiss, “Seven Hells, that girl is a _bitch_!”

When they were out in the hallway Jon asked, “ What’s the problem, Duffy? You saw me e-mail you the essay last night, just like you asked. And where exactly are we going? The library?”

“Shut up and come with me.” Sansa led him down the hall past the English classrooms.

Sansa had no idea where she got this idea but she knew exactly where they were going, and she was sure that this might officially make her a floozy. But when they reached the door of the unused janitor’s closet, she had no feeling of shame….not yet, at least.

She grasped the doorknob and noticed Jon’s eyes narrow with suspicion. She yanked the door, checked that no one was watching, and gestured for him to go inside. Jon walked into the tiny closet, and she followed, shutting the door stealthily behind them.

“Something tells me this isn’t about _The Scarlet Letter,”_ he said, and even in the dark Sansa knew he was grinning.

“Be quiet.”

They met halfway. His hands tangled in her hair and her’s clawed at his forearms. They kissed violently, and Sansa’s back slammed against the wall. She heard a mop--or maybe a broom--topple over, but her brain barely registered the sound as one of Jon’s hands moved to her hip, holding her closer to him. She tilted her head to meet his kiss, his lips pressed hard against hers, and her hands explored his biceps.

The smell of his cologne filled her senses and she moved her hands to his curls, gripping tightly, earning a soft moan from him.

They wrestled  in the darkness for a while before she felt his hand insistently lifting the hem of her top. With a gasp, Sansa pulled away from the kiss and grabbed his wrist. “No...not now.”

“Then when?”Jon asked in her ear, still pinning her to the wall. He didn’t even sound winded.

Sansa, on the other hand, was struggling to catch her breath. “Later.”

“Be more specific.” He looked down at her or at least it felt that way. Sansa untangled herself out of his arms and moved toward the door, nearly tripping over what felt like a bucket. She raised a hand to fix her hair somewhat. She had ponytail holders and a brush in her locker--she’d be fine. She reached for the doorknob. “Tonight. I’ll be at your house around seven. Okay?” But before Jon could answer, she slipped out of the closet and hurried down the hall, hoping it didn’t look like a walk of shame.

 

 

 

 


	7. Ain't Her Fault...Or Is It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by Ain't My Fault by Zara Larsson 
> 
> (This is playing at the Dragon Pit at the end)
> 
>  
> 
> Sansa and Marge are almost like twin sisters. Marge feels lost without her "twin" Sansa needing her.
> 
> Enjoy:)

English was nerve-racking. Sansa caught herself glancing across the room at Jon several times, anxious to feel the mind-numbing effects of his arms, hands, and lips again.

She prayed her friends didn’t notice. Dany, of course, would believe her if she told her she was imagining things; Marge, on the other hand...well, hopefully Marge was too absorbed in Mr. Lannister’s grammar lesson-to look over at her. She would probably interrogate Sansa for hours and guess everything that had happened, seeing right through her denials. Sansa really needed to get out of there before she was exposed.

But when the bell finally rang, she was in no hurry to walk outside.

Dany skipped toward the cafeteria with a big smile on her face. “I can’t wait to see him!”

“We get it, Dany,” Marge said. “You love your big brother. It’s cute, really, but you’ve said that...twenty times today?” Thirty, maybe?”

Dany blushed. “Well, I can’t wait.”

“Of course you can’t.” Marge smiled at her. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you, but you might want to calm down just a bit.” She stopped in the middle of the cafeteria and looked over her shoulder at Sansa. “You coming, Sans?”

“No,” Sansa said, crouching down and messed with the sides of her TOMS. “I need to...fix this. You guys go ahead. Don’t stall the reunion for me.”

Marge gave her a knowing look before nodding and pushing Dany ahead. She started a new conversation to distract Dany from Sansa’s lame excuse. “So tell me about this fiancee. What’s she like? Pretty? Dumb as a sack of potatoes? I want the details.”

Sansa waited in the cafeteria for a good twenty minutes, not wanting to chance seeing _him_ in the parking lot. How funny that less than seven hours earlier, she’d been avoiding a completely different guy...one she was now desperate to see. As sick and twisted as it was, she couldn’t wait to be back in Jon’s bedroom. Back to her own private island getaway. Back in her world of escape. But first she had to wait until Viserys Targaryen drove out of the parking lot.

When Sansa felt confident that he’d gone, she walked out of the school, pulling her coat tight around herself. The February wind bit at her face as she moved across the empty parking lot, and the sight of her heat-challenged car didn’t hold any comfort. She slid into the driver seat, shivering like crazy, and started the engine. The ride home seemed to take hours even though Kings Landing High was only about four miles from her house.

Sansa wondered if she could go to Jon’s house a few hours early when she pulled into her driveway and remembered her dad. _Oh, no…._ His car was in the driveway, but he shouldn’t have been home from work yet.

“Damn it!” Sansa wailed, punching the steering wheel and jumping like an idiot when the horn sounded. “Damn it! Damn it!”

Guilt surged through her. How could she forget about Dad? Poor, lonely, barricaded-in-his-bedroom Dad? She worried as she climbed out of the car and trudged up the sidewalk that he might still be in his room. If he was, would she have to break down the door? Then what? Yell at him? Cry with him? Tell him that Mom didn’t deserve him? What was the right answer?

But Dad was sitting on the couch when she walked inside, a bowl of popcorn in his lap. Sansa hesitated in the doorway, not sure what the hell was going on. He looked... _normal._ He didn’t look like he’d been crying or drinking or anything. He just looked like her dad with his thick-rimmed glasses and untidy light brown hair. The same way she saw him every other day of the week.

“Hey, Ladywolf,” he said. “I woke up late this morning, so I just called work and told them I was sick. I haven’t taken any of my vacation, so it’s not a big deal.”

Sansa glanced into the kitchen. The manila envelope still sat on the kitchen table. Untouched.

He must have followed her gaze, or guessed, because he said with a shrug, “Oh, those stupid papers! You know, they had me in such a fit. I finally thought about it and realized that they’re just a mistake. Your mom’s lawyer heard she’d been gone a little longer than usual this time and jumped the gun.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“No,” Dad admitted. “But I’m sure that’s the problem. It must be. Nothing to worry about, Ladywolf. How was your day?”

“It was good.”

They were both lying, but _Sansa_ knew that her words weren’t true. He, on the other hand, seemed genuinely convinced. How could she remind him that Mom’s signature was on the papers? How could she bring him back to reality? That would only drive him into his bedroom again--or send him in search of a bottle--and ruin this moment of manufactured peace.

And Sansa didn’t want to be the one to fuck up her dad’s sobriety.

Shock, she decided as she walked up the stairs to her bedroom. He was simply in shock. But the denial wouldn’t last long. Eventually, he’d wake up. Sansa just prayed he’d do it with grace.

She stretched out on her bed with her calculus book in front of her, trying to do homework she really didn’t understand. Her eyes kept jumping to the alarm clock on her nightstand. _3:28...3:31...3:37..._ Minutes ticked by, and math problems blurred into patterns of unidentifiable symbols, like ancient runes. Finally she slammed the book shut and conceded defeat.

This was sick. She should _not_ have been thinking of Jon. She shouldn’t have been kissing Jon. She shouldn’t have been sleeping with Jon. Seven Hells, barely a week earlier she would have thought _speaking_ to him was horrific. But the more her world spun, the more appealing he became. She still hated him with a passion. His arrogance made her want to scream, but his ability to free her--if only temporarily--from her problems left Sansa high. He was her drug. Seriously sick.

Even more sick was the way she lied to Marge about it when she called at five-thirty.

“Hey, are you okay? Oh Gods, I can’t believe Viserys is back. Are you, like, flipping out? Do you need me to come over?”

“No,” Sansa felt jumpy, still glancing at the clock every few minutes. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t bottle it up, Sans.”Marge urged.

“I’m not. I’m fine.”

“I’m coming over.” she said.

“No,” Sansa said quickly. “Don’t. There’s no reason to.”

There was silence for a second, and when Marge spoke again, she sounded hurt. “Okay...but, I mean, even if we didn’t talk about Viserys, we could hang out or whatever.”

“I can’t,” Sansa replied. “I,um…I’m thinking I might go to bed early tonight.” Sansa felt horrible but she couldn’t drag them into her mess.

“What?”

“I stayed up way too late last night watching, um...a movie. I’m exhausted.”

_She knows I’m lying. It’s pretty obvious._ But Marge didn’t question her. Instead, she just said, “Well...fine, I guess. But maybe tomorrow? Or this weekend? You really do need to talk about it, Sans. Even if you don’t think you need to. Just because he’s Dany’s brother…”

At least she thought Sansa was lying to cover up her issues with Viserys. She’d rather Marge think that than know the truth.

_Gods, I’m such a shitty friend…. But Jon is something I have to lie about. To everyone._

When six-forty-five finally rolled around, Sansa grabbed her coat and raced downstairs, already pulling her car keys out of her pocket. She found Dad in the kitchen, microwaving some Pizza Rolls. He smiled at her as she put on her gloves. “Hey, Dad,”she said. “I’ll be back later.”

 “Where are you going, Ladywolf?”

_Oh, uh, good question…_

“I’m going to Jon Snow’s house. We’re working on a paper for English class. I won’t be home late or anything.

_Oh please, Please don’t let my cheeks turn red._

“Okay,” Dad said. “Have fun with Jon.”

Sansa ran out of the kitchen before her face could burst into flames.

“Bye, Dad!”

She practically sprinted out to her car, and she tried very, very hard to speed when she pulled onto the highway. Sansa was _not_ getting her first ticket because of Jon Snow. The line had to be drawn somewhere.

Then again, she’d crossed several lines already.

But what exactly was Sansa doing? She’d cringed when she heard about girls who screwed Jon, and yet, here she was, becoming one of them. She told herself that there was a difference. Those girls thought they had a shot with Jon; they found him sexy and appealing--which, in a twisted way, she guessed he was. They believed he was a good guy they could tame, but she knew he was a jackass. She only wanted his body. No strings. No feelings. She only wanted the high.

_Does that make me a junkie and slut?..._

Her car came to a stop in front of the gigantic house, and she decided that her actions were excusable. People with cancer smoke pot for medicinal purposes; her situation was very similar. If she didn’t use Jon to distract herself, she would go crazy, so she was really saving herself from self-destruction and a load of therapy bills.

She walked up the sidewalk and rang the doorbell. A second later, the lock clicked and the knob turned. The instant Jon’s grinning face appeared in the doorway, Sansa knew that, regardless of her reasoning, this entire things was wrong. Disgusting. Sick. Unhealthy.

And completely exhilarating.

* * *

 Sansa had major sex hair. She stared into the big mirror and tried to get the kinks of the mess of red hair while Jon put his clothes on behind her. Definitely not a situation she’d ever imagined herself in.

 “I’m perfectly fine with being used,” he said as he pulled on the tight black t-shirt. His hair was pretty incriminating, too. “But I would like to know _for what_ I’m being used.”

“Distraction.”

“That much I gathered.” The mattress creaked when he flopped down onto his back and tucked his arms behind his head. “What am I supposed to be distracting you from? There’s a chance that if I knew, I could do my job more efficiently.”

“You’re doing just fine already.” Sansa scraped her fingernails through her hair, but it was good as it would get. Sighing, she turned away from the mirror and faced Jon. To her surprise, he was watching her with actual interest. “Do you really care?”

“Sure.” He sat up and patted a spot beside him. “There’s more to this amazing body than awe-inspiring abs. I have a pair of ears, too, and they happen to work superbly.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and sat next to him, pulling her feet up onto the bed. “Okay,”she said, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Not that it matters, but I found out that my ex-boyfriend is coming back to town for a week this morning. It’s so stupid, but I panicked. I mean, the last time we saw each other...it didn’t go very well. That’s why I dragged you into the closet at school.”

“What happened?”

“You were there. Don’t make me relive it.”

“I meant with your ex-boyfriend,” Jon said. “I’m curious. What kind of misery could cause a hateful person like you to run into my muscular arms? Or is he the one who put that layer of ice around your heart?” His words sounded facetious, but his smile seemed sincere, not the lopsided one he wore when he thought he was being clever.

“We started dating during my freshman year,”Sansa began reluctantly. “He was a senior, and I knew that my parents would never let me see him if they knew how old he was. So we kept the whole thing a secret from everyone. He never introduced me to his friends or took me places or talked to me at school, and I just assumed it was to protect us. Well, of course, I was totally wrong.”

Her skin shivered as Jon’s eyes steadied on her. Gods, that made her feel strange. He was probably looking at her with pity. _Poor Duffy._

Her shoulders tensed, and she stared at her feet, refusing to see his reaction to her story. A story she’d never told anyone but Marge.

“So I saw him hanging out with this girl a few times at school,” Sansa continued. “Every time I asked, he just said they were friends and not to worry. So I didn’t. I mean, he told me he loved me. I had every reason to believe him. Right?”

Jon didn’t answer.

“Then _she_ found out. This girl I’d been seeing him with tracked me down at school one day, and she told me to stop screwing her boyfriend. I thought it was a mistake, so I asked him about it…”

“Not a mistake,” Jon guessed.

“Nope. Her name was Myranda, and they’d been together since sixth grade. I was the other woman--or _girl_ technically.”

Slowly, Sansa looked up and saw Jon making a face. “What a dick,” he said.

“You can’t talk. You’re the biggest playboy there is.”

“True,” he admitted. “But I don’t make promises. He told you he loved you. He made a commitment. I’d never do that. A girl can believe what she wants to believe, but I don’t say anything I don’t mean. What he did is the mark of a true _dick._ ”

“Anyway, he’s back in town this week with Myranda...his _fiancee.”_

Jon let out a low hiss. “Ah, that’s awkward.”

“You think?”

There was a long pause. Finally, Jon asked, “So, who is he? Would I remember him?”

“I don’t know. You might. His name is Viserys Targaryen.”

“Viserys Targaryen.” Jon’s face twisted in horror. “Viserys Targaryen? You mean that _strange_ guy? The freak with creepy voice and conspiracy theories? His eyes widened in shock. “How in seven hells did he get _two_ girls? Why would anyone go out with him? Why would _you_ go out with him? He was a mutant.”

Sansa felt her eyebrows contract. “Thanks,” she muttered. “Did you ever think that maybe that’s the best that the Duff could do?”

Jon’s face fell. He looked away from her, examining their reflections in the mirror across the room. After a few moments of uneasy silence, he said, “You know, Sansa, you aren’t _that unattractive_. You do have some potential. Maybe if you hung out with different friends--”

“Just stop,” she said. “Look, I’ve already fucked you three times. You don’t have to flatter me. Besides, I love my friends way too much to trade them in for the sake of looking hotter.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I mean, Marge has been my best friend since, like, forever, and she’s the most loyal person I’ve ever met. And Dany...well, she has no idea about me and her brother. We weren’t friends back then. In fact, I didn’t _want_ to know her after Viserys and I split, but Marge said it would be good for me, and she was right...as usual. Dany can be a little ditsy, but she’s the sweetest, most innocent person I know. I could never give them up just to look good. That’s make me a real dumbass.”

“Then they’re lucky to have you.”

“I just said not to flatter--”

 “I’m being honest.” Jon frowned at the mirror. “I have only one friend--one _real_ friend. Satin is the only guy who will be seen with me, and that’s because we aren’t trying to attract the same audience, if you know what I mean.” A small smile spread across his lips when he turned to face her. “Most people will do anything to avoid being the Duff.”

“Well, I guess I’m not _most_ people.”

He looked at her seriously. “Does the word even bother you?” he asked.

“No.” Sansa knew it was a lie the second the answer passed her lips. It did bother her, but she wouldn’t admit that. Especially not to him.

Her entire body seemed to be conscious of his eyes on her again. Before he could say anything, she stood up and walked to the bedroom door.

“Listen,” she said, twisting the knob. “I have to go, but I was thinking we should do this again. Like a fling, maybe. Purely physical. No strings attached?”

“Can’t get enough of me, can you?” Jon asked, stretching out on his back again with a smirk. “That sounds good to me, but if I’m so fantastic, you should spread the word to your friends. You say you love them, so ought to let them experience the same mind-blowing pleasure...maybe at the same time time. It’s only right.”

Sansa scowled at him. “Just when I think you might have a soul, you say shit like that.” The door thudded against the wall when she flung it open. She marched down the stairs and yelled, “I’ll let myself out!”

“I’ll see you soon, Duffy.”

_What an asshole._

* * *

Sansa’s father was oblivious. She guessed his suspicious dad mode was faulty or something because he hardly questioned her as she slipped out of the house to see Jon more and more that week. Any sane dad would have been tipped off when his daughter used “working on a paper”excuse twice in a row, but four times in one week? Did he really think it took her that long to write a stupid essay? Wasn’t he worried she might be doing exactly what she _was doing?_

Apparently not. Every time she walked out of the house, he just said, “Have a nice time, Ladywolf.”

Sansa turned on the music in attempt comfort herself over worrying about her dad and his passiveness on the way to Jon’s.

It didn't.

* * *

   “What’s next?” Jon asked after Sansa had rolled off of him a few minutes earlier.

    “What?! We just…. give me a few minutes.” Sansa was still struggling to breathe normally.

     At that, Jon chuckled. “I’ll hold you to that.” He turned to his side and faced her. “I didn’t word my question right— I meant what’s next for you after graduation?”

_Jon really wants to know?_

   Sansa looked up at his ceiling, “I got accepted into my dream school and I’m going to major in law.”

   “Nice, I can see _you_ as a lawyer. Where are you going?”

   “Winterfell University up North.”

   “ _Oh...._ well looks like we’ll be seeing each other then.”

   “Huh?”

   “I’m going there in the Fall as well.”

   “Wait, but…..I thought….”

   “Thought what?”

    Sansa sat up and raddled through her brain.

_Jon and I are both going to Winterfell? Surely not, right?...This must be alternate universe._

  “I thought you’d be going to Reach College or Oldtown University…”

  “Oh no, I want to get out of the South. Winterfell has the best Business program in the country. I’d been doing everything to get the best grades for early decision.”

  Sansa had done the same. So maybe she and Jon more alike than she thought.

_What in seven hells?....._

  “What’s your GPA?” Sansa suddenly wanted to know.

    “Are you seriously asking me that in bed?”

   “Yes. Besides we’re not doing anything right now.”

   “It’s a 5.2.”

_Are you kidding me????  He has a higher GPA than me!!!_

   “How?”

   “What do you mean how? I’ve taken advanced English with you for six years…”

   “But…”

  “All my other classes are AP as well. The class that I’m that not great in, is AP History.”

  “Oh.”

  “Wait why did you want to know my GPA?” Jon propped himself up besides her.

  “I was just curious…” Sansa shrugged.

  “What’s your GPA?”

  “I’m not telling you.”

  “That’s not fair. I told you mine, you tell me yours.”

  “Nope.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Can I guess what it is?”

  “Why not? I’m sure you’ll guess it wrong.”

  “I’m up for the challenge.” Jon smirked.

  “Go ahead.”

  “It’s a 0.1” Mischief danced in his brown eyes.

  Sansa narrowed her eyes at his pathetic little joke.

 “ _You know nothing, Jon Snow_.”

  “ _Fine_. You’re going to make me resign this game then. You win.”

_I win? Yes……._

   Sansa’s thoughts got interrupted when she felt Jon kissing her breasts.

 “  _Oh….um….why…Gods… Jon… are you doing this?”_ Sansa was incoherent as her fingers curled in his hair, earning a chuckle from him.

  “You said give you a few minutes before we went again. I told you I’d hold you to that.”

   “But….. _mmm_ …..we were talking about….GPAs.”

   “We were but you got distracted.”

  “You could’ve…… _ahhh…_ tapped me on the shoulder.”

 “And resist the urge to throw you off?,” He whispered in her ear as he ran a thumb across her breasts. “I don’t think so.” He smiled and Sansa felt she was catching on fire.

   Jon moved slightly so his top half was covering her and he began kissing her neck.

  His right hand slowly moved down and grabbed her hip when she burst out in laughter. A dark eyebrow rose and he gripped it again, the laughter continuing. “Oh, this is new….You didn’t tell me you were ticklish.”

 “You didn’t ask.” Sansa giggled while struggling to get away from him to no avail. Jon shifted his whole body, so now he was fully hovering over her. He continued tickling her and she felt she couldn’t stop laughing.

  Until she felt _him_ against her leg.

  “ _Oh,_ you didn’t tell me about _that.”_ Sansa managed between fits of giggles.

  “You didn’t _ask…”_ Jon smirked and kissed her hard.

  Before long, they were back into their rhythm again.

* * *

  Sansa finished buttoning her jeans and started to slide on her TOMS when she heard Jon tap on the railing.

  “Yes?” she turned around.

 “Do you have plans Friday?" He asked at the top of the stairs. 

 “I’m going to The Dragon Pit with Marge. Why?”

 “Do you want to meet here after?”

 “Sure, what time?”

 “Eleven?”

 “Eleven. Sounds good to me.” She nodded at him and left.

* * *

Marge had no idea either. She’d been watching Sansa like a hawk since Viserys drove into town, hadn’t picked up on anything between her and Jon. Nothing more than her usual jokes about Sansa’s secret pining for him, that is. Of course, Sansa was doing everything she could to hide the evidence, but more than once, she was sure she’d caught her.

Like Friday afternoon when they were hanging out in Sansa’s bedroom and getting ready to go the Dragon Pit. Really, Marge was the one getting ready. Sansa mostly sat on her bed and watched while Marge posed in front of her mirror. They’d done this a million times, but with Dany still clinging to her brother every waking moment, the room felt strangely empty. Almost eerie.

Dany was so different from the both of them. Marge and Sansa were opposites, but Dany was from an entirely different planet. She was a constant ray of light. The glass half full. She kept them both balance with that big smile and naive innocence that always shocked them. While sometimes it felt like Marge and Sansa had both seen too much of the world, Dany was, in a lot of ways, still a child. Virginal. Always full of wonder. She was their sunshine, and Marge and Sansa were kind of in the dark without her.

Sansa was wondering how many more days Viserys would be in town when Marge turned to look at her, finally deciding that she liked her purple skinny jeans after all. “You know, Sans, you’re dealing with the whole Viserys thing a lot better than I expected.” she said.

“Thanks...I think.”

“Well, I kind of figured that when Viserys rolled back into Kings Landing with his fiancee, you’d be freaked. I was banking on tears, midnight phone calls, and some good old nervous breakdowns. Instead, you’re being, like, totally normal...or, you know, as normal as Sansa Stark ever gets.”

“I retract my thanks.”

“Seriously.” Marge crossed the room and sat down next to Sansa. “Are you dealing with this okay? You’ve barely complained, which is disturbing because you complain about everything.”

“Do not,” Sansa protested.

“Whatever you say.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “For your information, I’ve found a way to take my mind off it, but that’s kind of ruined when you keep talking about it, Marge.” She nudged her playfully with her elbow. “I’m starting to think you _want_ me to cry.”

“At least that would prove to me that you’re not bottling it up.”

“Marge,” Sansa groaned.

“I’m not kidding, Sans,” she said. “This guy really fucked you up freshman year. You were a crying, blubbering, panicking mess after what he did, and I know it’s hard because we have to keep it a secret from Dany, but you need to deal with it somehow. I don’t want to see you go through that shit again.”

“Marge, I’m fine,” Sansa assured her. “I really have found a way to relieve the stress, okay?”

“What’s that?”

_Oh, shit._

“What’s what?”

Marge frowned at her. “ _Duh_. Your way of relieving the stress. What are you doing?”

“Um...just stuff.”

“Are you working out?” she asked. “Don’t be embarrassed if you are. My mom does cardio when she’s pissed off. She says it helps her channel the negative energy--whatever that means. So is that what you’re doing? Are you working out?”

“Um...you could say that.”

_Damn it._ Sansa’s cheeks were definitely burning. She turned away from Marge, examining the hairs on the back of her arm.

“Cardio?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

But miraculously, she didn’t seem to notice that Sansa’s face was on fire.

“Cool. You know, these pants are a size bigger than what I usually buy. Maybe we should work out together.”

“I don’t think so.” Before she could argue or see the scarlet color of Sansa’s cheeks, Sansa stood up and said, “I’ve gotta go brush my teeth again. Then I’ll be ready to get out of here. Okay.” And Sansa ran out of the room.

When she returned a few minutes later, Sansa was forced to lie again.

“Wanna stay over at my place tonight?” Marge fluffed her hair in the mirror. “Mom’s going to a bachelorette party for a woman she works with, so it’ll just be us...and a few James McAvoy movies if you want. Dany will be sad she missed it but--”

“I can’t tonight, Marge.”

“Why not?” She sounded hurt.

Sansa thought back to her plans to see Jon around eleven tonight, but she couldn’t just be honest. She couldn’t really lie either. Her lies were always transparent. So she did what she was getting better and better at these days. Sansa withheld.

“I have plans.”

“After we leave the Dragon Pit?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Marge turned from the mirror and stared at her for a long moment. Finally, she said, “You’ve been busy a lot lately, you know. You never want to do stuff with me much anymore.”

“I’m going out with you tonight, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, I guess, but...I don’t know.” Marge turned away and examined her reflection one last time. “Never mind. Let’s just go.”

Sansa hated being dishonest with Marge. Especially because she clearly knew _something_ was going on, even if she hadn’t figured out what just yet. But Sansa was going to do everything in her power to keep her thing with Jon under wraps.

* * *

 And, of course, Jon acted totally casual about everything.

In public, they treated each other with the same sarcastic indifference as always. Sansa insulted him, gave him dirty looks, and cursed under her breath as he acted like a pig (not that there was any _acting_ involved). No one would have guessed they were different behind closed doors. No one could tell that she was counting down the minutes until they’d be meeting on his front porch step.

No but Sandor.

“You like him,” the bartender teased as Jon, after enduring a verbal tirade from Sansa, went off to dance with a giggling freshman. “And I’m thinking he likes you too. You two have something going on.”

“You’re insane.” Sansa said, sipping her Orange Crush.

“I’ve told you a million times, Sansa, and I’ll tell you again. You’re a bad liar.”

“I wouldn’t touch that douche bag with a ten-foot pole!” _Does my voice convey enough disgust?_ “Do you really think I’m that much of an idiot, Sandor? He’s arrogant, and he sleeps with everything he can get his filthy hands on. Most of the time, I just want to claw his creepy eyes out. How could I like him? He’s a jackass.”

“And girls love jackasses. That’s why I can’t get a date. I’m too damn nice.”

“Or too hairy,” Sansa offered. She took the last drink of her Orange Crush and pushed the glass across the bar to him. “Shave that hippie hair and you might have better luck. Women don’t want to run their fingers through Linguini hair, you know.”

“You’re trying to get out of talking about it,” Sandor pointed out. “That just proves there’s something going on with you and Mr. Jackass.”

“Shut up. Just shut up, Sandor.”

“So I’m right?

“No,” Sansa said. “You’re just really, really annoying me.

Okay, she definitely had to find some way of avoiding the Dragon Pit for a few weeks...or, better yet _forever._

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Sports are totally a Sansa thing...right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pool and Basketball Games plus after game shenanigans.
> 
> **Dany looks different than Viserys in this story. She looks the same as she does in canon. Viserys looks like Harry Lloyd, the actor who portrayed him with brown hair and green eyes.
> 
> **This is probably one of many chapters that's going to be vastly different than the book. I wanted to change things and further explore dynamics.
> 
> Enjoy:)

“Your shot, Duffy.” Jon leaned on his pool stick, a triumphant smirk on his face.

“You haven’t won yet,” Sansa said, rolling her eyes.

“But I’m about to.”

Sansa ignored him, focusing her attention on one of the two striped balls still remaining on the table. At that point, she really wished Jon and her had just stuck to their pattern--walk straight up to his bedroom, bypassing everything else entirely. But tonight on the way to the stairs, Jon mentioned having a pool table--and proceeded to brag he was a wizard with a pool stick. For some reason, it sparked a competitive nerve in Sansa. She just couldn’t wait to wipe the floor with him and knock that cocky little grin right off his face.

Only, she was starting to regret her decision to challenge him to this game because, as it turned out, his boasts hadn’t been too far from the truth. She wasn’t bad at pool either, but she was about to get her ass kicked. And there was nothing she could to wiggle her way out of it.

“Steady there,” he whispered, his lips brushing past her ear and he eased up behind her. His hands settled on her hips, fingers toying with the hem of her shirt. “ _Focus_. Are you you focusing?

He was trying to distract her. And _shit,_ it was working.

Sansa jerked away from him, trying to thrust the back of her pool stick into his gut. But of course, he dodged, and she succeeded only in knocking the cue ball in the opposite direction of what she’d intended, sending it right into one of the corner pockets.

“Scratch,” Jon announced.

“Damn it!” Sansa whirled around to face him. “That shouldn’t count!”

“But it does.” He took the white ball out of the hole and placed it carefully at the end of the table. “All’s fair in love and pool.”

“War,” she corrected.

“Same thing.” He eased the stick back, staring straight ahead, before shooting it forward again. Half a second later, the eight ball sailed into a pocket. The winning shot.

“Asshole,” she hissed.

“Don’t be a sore loser,” he said leaning his stick against the wall. “What did you really expect? I’m obviously amazing at everything.” He grinned. “But, hey, you can’t hold it against me right? We can’t help the way the Seven makes us.”

“You’re an arrogant cheater.” Sansa tossed her pool stick aside, letting it clatter to the floor a few feet away. “Sore winners are way worse than sore losers, you know. And you only won because you kept messing me up! You couldn’t keep your fucking hands to yourself long enough for me to make a decent shot! That’s just low. And for another thing--”

Without warning, Jon lifted her up onto the pool table. His hands moved to her shoulders, and a second later, she was flat on her back, staring up at him as he smirked. He shifted so that he was on the table too, leaning over her with his face only inches from hers.

“On the pool table?” Sansa said, narrowing her eyes at him. “Seriously?”

“I can’t resist,” he said. “You know, you’re pretty sexy when you’re pissed at me.”

The thing that got her was that no one, not even Viserys Targaryen, had ever called her sexy. Jon was the first. And the truth was, being with him made her _feel_ attractive. The way he touched her. The way he kissed her. She could tell his body wanted her. Okay, Okay. So it was _Jon._ His body wanted everyone. But still. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced...in well, she’d never experienced it. It was exciting and empowering.

But none of that could erase the stab of pain that _word_ gave her. Jon might have been the first one to call her sxy, but he was also the first to call her the Duff. That word had been tugging at her, taunting her, for weeks now. And it was his fault.

So how could he see her as both sexy and the Duff at the same time?

Better question: _why do I care?_

Before Sansa could manufacture any decent answers, he started kissing her, his fingers already locating the buttons and zippers of her clothes. They became a tangle of lips and hands and knees, and the issue was completely pushed out of her head.

For the moment, at least.

* * *

 

“Go Dragons!” Marge yelled as she and a few other members of the Curvy and Petite Squad did cartwheels along the sidelines.

Beside Sansa, Dany was waving a two-dollar red-and-gold pom-pom, her face glowing with excitement. Viserys and Myranda were having dinner with Myranda’s parents that night, which meant Sansa got to send a couple of hours with her...even if that couple was at a silly sporting event.

But it was worth it for her friends.

Sansa had just decided to drive to Jon’s after dropping Marge and Dany off, when Dany elbowed her in the side. For a second, she assumed it was an accident, like she’d gotten a little too excited waving her pom-pom around, but then she felt Dany tug on her wrist. “Sansa.”

“Huh?” Sansa turned her head to face Dany, but she wasn’t looking at her. Her gaze was focused on a group of people a few bleachers down.

Three tall, pretty girls--juniors, Sansa thought--sat in a row, leaning back on their palms, their legs crossed. Three perfect ponytails. Three pairs of high-waisted skinny jeans. And then, up the aisle, walked a fourth. She was smaller and tanner with long curly brown hair. Clearly a freshman. She was carrying several bottles of water and a few hot dogs in her arms, like she’d just come back from the concession stand.

Sansa watched as the smiling freshman passed out the bottles and food. Watched as each of the junior took theirs from her. Watched as they gave her less than appreciative looks. She took her seat at the end of their little row, and none of them seemed to look to her, only to one another. Sansa watched as she tried to hop into their conversations, her small mouth opening and closing again as each of the juniors interrupted her, ignoring her entirely. Until, after a moment, one faced her, spoke quickly, and looked back to her friends. The freshman stood up again and walked, still smiling down the steps and back toward the concession stand. Back to do their bidding.

When Sansa faced Dany again, her violet eyes were dark...and sad. Or maybe angry. It was hard to tell with her because she didn’t show either of those emotions very often.

Either way Sansa understood.

Dany had been like that freshman once. That’s how Marge and Sansa found her. Two senior girls Marge cheered with-complete cheerleading stereotypes: bitchy, blond, and bimbo-like--had been bragging about some dopey sophomore they kept as a “pet.” And more than once, Marge had watched them talk down to her.

“We’ve got to do something about it, Sans,” she said insistently. “We can’t just let them treat her that way.”

Marge thought she had to save everyone. Just like she’d saved Sansa on the playground all those years ago. She was used to this. Only this time, she wanted her help. Normally Sansa would have agreed because it was Marge asking. But Daenerys Targaryen was a girl she had no desire to meet, let alone save.

Sansa wasn’t heartless. She just didn’t want to know Viserys Targaryen’s sister. Not after what he’d done to her. Not after the drama she’d been through the year before.

And she’d managed to stand her ground quite firmly...until that day in the cafeteria.

“Gods, Dany, are you fucking brain-dead or something?”

Marge and Sansa both turned around in their seats to see one of the senior cheerleaders glaring down at Dany, who was at least a head shorter than she was. Or maybe that was just the way Dany slumped, cowering.

“I asked you to do one simple thing,” the cheerleader spat, jabbing a finger down at the plate Dany was holding. “One stupidly simple thing. No fucking dressing on my salad. How hard is that?”

“That’s how the salad came, Mirri,” Dany mumbled, her cheeks bright pink. “I didn’t--”

“You’re a moron.” The cheerleader turned around and stormed away, ponytail swinging behind her.

Dany just stood there, looking down at the plate of salad with big, sad eyes. She seemed so small then. So weak and mousy. At that moment, Sansa didn’t think of her as beautiful. Or even at all cute. Just fragile and skittish. Like a mouse.

“Hurry up, Dany,” one of the other cheerleaders called from their table, sounding annoyed. “We’re not saving your seat forever. Seven Hells.”

Sansa could feel Marge looking at her, and she knew what she wanted. And, staring at Dany, Sansa couldn’t exactly pretend she didn’t understand why. If anyone needed a little bit of Marge Saves the Day, it was this girl. Plus, she didn’t look anything like her brother. That made Sansa’s decision a little easier.

Sansa sighed and said, loudly, “Hey, Dany.”

She jumped and turned to look at Sansa, and the fearful expression on her face almost broke Sansa’s heart.

“Come sit with us.” It wasn’t a question. Not even an offer. It was pretty much an order. Sansa didn’t want to give her a choice. Even though, if she was sane, she totally would have chosen them.

Then Dany was hurrying toward them, and the senior cheerleaders were pissed, and Marge was beaming at Sansa. And that was that. History.

Though it didn’t seem so much like the past just then, as Sansa watched the little freshman girl hurry off toward the concession stand. She didn’t get it. The girl was prettier than all three of those girls bossing her around put together. Sansa would kill to have the girl’s hair and complexion. But it seemed the girls made her think she had to look just like them, in order to be noticed. The girl had turned around a few times while waiting in line, to look at number eight on the court. What did Marge say his name was again? Grey, that’s his name. Marge told her he was a junior and already had several offers to play basketball in college. Sansa knew he had loads of friends and was quite popular. Maybe that’s why the freshman wanted to hang around the juniors. She wanted to be noticed by him.

Sansa looked at Dany again, remembering how small and weak she’d seemed that day. Not cute. Not pretty. Just kind of pathetic. The Duff. Now she was beautiful. Petite and adorable and... _sexy._ Any guy--except Satin, unfortunately--would want her. But the strange thing was, she didn’t look at all that different. Not on the surface, at least. She’d been petite and blonde even then. So what changed?

How could one of the most gorgeous girls Sansa had ever met have been the Duff? How did that logic even work? It was like Jon calling her sexy and Duffy. It just didn’t make sense.

Was it possible that you didn’t have to be fat or ugly to be the Duff? Jon had said, that night at the Dragon Pit, that _Duff_ was a comparison. Did that mean even somewhat attractive girls could be Duff?

“Should we go help her?”

Sansa was startled for a second, and a little confused. Sansa realized Dany was watching the freshman make her way down the sideline.

Sansa waved her arms to get the freshman’s attention and she looked up at them. She looked confused yet she made her way up the stairs toward them.

“Hello, my name is Dany and this is my best friend Sansa.” Dany smiled at the freshman as she introduced herself and Sansa.

“My name is Missandei.” The freshman spoke quietly, voice full of nervousness.

Sansa grew worried. Did Missandei think they were going to use her like those junior girls?

“Missandei, we’re planning to get some food after the game. We’d love if you came with us. I can drive you back to your house afterward.” Sansa spoke up and Missandei’s eyes lit up, her shoulders straightened, and a sweet smile came on her face.

“Missandei! What are you doing? Come back here you idiot!” One of the junior girls below them screamed at her.

Missandei shrunk into herself and fiddled with her hands. She had conflict and fear written all over her face. Sansa’s fists tightened by her sides as her anger intensified. _Oh_ , she had a mouthful to say to those girls.

“Shut the hell up! Leave Missandei alone! She’s hanging out with us after the game.” Dany yelled at the girl and the girl huffed and turned around.

On the flip side, Sansa was shocked to her core. Did her sweet, innocent Dany….actually say that?

_Wow, I guess that’s what happens when she’s around Marge and I._

Sansa had a plan to yell at them except her sentence was filled with more expletives.

“Dany and Sansa, thank you!” Missandei spoke softly and gave them both a hug.

Sansa smiled. This was a pretty good night.

The game ended.

The Dragons won.

And she gained a new life-long friend.

* * *

 “How was the game?” Jon asked as he opened the door to his room.

“Dragons won.  I’m actually quite surprised by how fun they are. I actually might go to some more games.” Sansa smiled remembering the night with her friends. Basketball games and fast food were more enjoyable than going to the Dragon Pit.

“Really? I didn’t think sports were your thing, Duffy. Too complicated and boring to follow.” Jon chuckled as he took his shirt off and Sansa decided to have some fun.

_Seven Hells, I hate that word but I’m going to get some payback._

“You’re right, they’re not. But _Gods_ ….those players are _hot._ I might have to ask Marge to set me up with one.” Sansa smiled, satisfied with herself, taking her jacket off.

“You’re here though….with _me._ ” Jon stated narrowing his eyes at her.

“Yeah, such a _tragedy_. I thought about number 7 all throughout the game.”

_“Willas Tyrell?”_

“Yes, _dreamy_ isn’t he? Those  _blue_ eyes and sandy _blond_ hair. It's like the Seven built him for me.” She smirked at him.

“I’ve had about enough of _this_.” Jon growled.

“Enough of what?” Sansa began to laugh but got cut off by Jon’s kiss. He hadn’t kissed her this fiercely before. He picked her up by the back of her thighs, carried her across the room, tossing her on the bed, and positioning himself above her. He had the rest of their clothes off in seconds. Soon, she couldn’t get him close enough to her body. It felt they were both lit on fire.

“Ooooh,” she gripped tightly on his shoulders and he was kissing her neck while tangling his fingers in her hair.

“ _Say_ _my name, Sansa_.” He groaned above her, his brown eyes were now black and she couldn’t believe he could look even _hotter_. Yet, here he was proving her wrong.

“ _Jon_ ……” she moaned and he smirked before going down to kiss her again.

* * *

 “What...what...what just _happened_?” Sansa breathed out after the fourth time in a row.

“What’d you mean? We’ve been doing _that_ for a while now.” Jon responded stretching his arms behind his head.

“We’ve never….”

“Never what?”

“Done it that _many times_.” _Or that wildly._ Sansa blushed and turned her head sideways to look away from him.

“Did you not like it?” Jon’s voice seemed a little unsure, which surprised her. Jon Snow being shy, was new to her.

“No--I liked it. _I liked it a lot.”_ Sansa admitted quietly and she felt Jon shift closer to her.

“Do you want to go again?” Jon whispered in her ear, she could hear the smile in his voice. She turned and nodded.

She could catch up on her sleep tomorrow.

 


	9. Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reminder Dickon Tarly is cast as Cole Sprouse inspired from Suite Life.
> 
> **This Jon is able to wink. Sorry, I just thought that was funny to add :'D
> 
>  
> 
> Also this might be the last update for the next two-ish months. I will try my best to update but I will definitely be back by August/Fall.
> 
> Enjoy:)

Valentine’s Day might as well have been called Anti-Duff Day. What other day could hurt a girl’s self-esteem more? Not that it mattered. Sansa hated Valentine’s Day even before she was aware of her Duff status. Honestly, she didn’t even understand why it was a holiday. Really, it was just an excuse for girls to whine about being lonely and for guys to worm their way into getting laid. She found it materialistic, indulgent, and, with all of the chocolate, completely unhealthy.

“It’s my favorite holiday of the year!” Dany cried as she danced her way down the hall toward Valyrian. It was the first time Sansa had seen her truly bouncy since Viserys’ departure two days earlier. “All of the pink and red! And flowers and candy! Isn’t fun, Sansa?”

“Sure.”

It had been almost a week since the basketball game, and Missandei had blended into their group effortlessly. She was soft-spoken and witty. She loved art and music. She balanced Dany very well and Sansa was happy for her. She could imagine how it lonely it could get being the peppy, dreamist one out of two gloomy, realist friends.

“Oh, I just wish Satin had asked me to be his valentine,” Dany said. “That would have been perfect, but we can’t always get what we want, can we?”

“Nope.” Sansa then remembered Missandei was also oblivious to Satin’s preferences. With that, she laughed very softly.

“You know, I think this is the first year that all three of us have been single,” Dany continued. “Last year, I was dating Drogo, and the year before that Marge was with Theon. I guess we can all just be each other’s valentines. That would be pretty fun. It is our last Valentine’s Day together before college and Missandei’s only one with us, and we haven’t really hung out lately. What do you think? The four of us can hang out at my house to celebrate.”

“Sounds good.”

Dany threw an arm around Sansa’s shoulders. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Sansa!”

“You too, Dany!” Sansa smiled in spite of herself. She couldn’t help it. Dany had one of those contagious smiles that made it really hard to be negative when she was so freaking bubbly.

They reached their classroom door and found Mrs. Lannister-Tarth waiting for them inside. “Sansa,” she said as Sansa walked in. “I just got an e-mail from the secretaries at the front desk. She needs some students to come help distribute flowers people have sent. You’re caught up on all your work, so would you mind doing that for me?

“Um...okay.”

“Oh, how fun!” Dany released Sansa from her one-armed hug. “You get to deliver flowers. It’s almost like you’re playing Cupid.”

_Right. How fun._

“See you later,” Sansa said to Dany as she turned and walked right back out of the room. She pushed through the hordes of students, fighting against the current to make her way to the front desk. Couples seemed to be everywhere, displaying their affection--holding hands, batting eyes, exchanging gifts, making out--for the entire school to witness. “Disgusting,” Sansa muttered.

She was about halfway to front desk when a strong hand gripped her elbow. “Hello.”

“What do you want?”

Jon was grinning at her when she spun around to face him.

“I just wanted to let you know that if you plan on dropping by tonight, I might be a little busy. With it being the day of love, I have a pretty full schedule.”

Now he sounded like a _professional_ man-whore.

“But if you’re desperate to see me, I should be free around eleven o’clock.”

“I think I can survive one night without you, Jon,” Sansa said. “In fact, I can survive an eternity.”

“Sure you can.” He released her arm and winked. “I’ll see you tonight.” Then he was gone, swept away by the tidal wave of students on the verge of being late to class.

A few minutes later, she stood at the front desk, where the secretary, who looked like a nervous wreck, smiled at her with relief.

“Did Mrs. Lannister-Tarth send you? This way, this way. The table is over here.” She led Sansa around the corner and gestured to a foldable, square table with a tacky gold surface. “There it is. Have fun!”

“Not likely.”

The table was covered with bouquets, vases, heart-shaped boxes, and Hallmark cards. At least fifty bundles of red and pink waited to be handed out, and Sansa got the privilege of being the bringer of such joy.

Sansa was debating where to start when she heard footsteps behind her. Assuming the secretary had returned, she asked, without turning around, “Do you have a list of the classes these kids are in so I know where to take the gifts?”

“Yes, I do.”

That didn’t sound like the secretary.

Sansa whirled around, shocked by the voice that had replied. It was one she knew very well, despite the fact it had never--not once--spoken directly to her.

Dickon Tarly smiled. “Hi.”

“Oh. I thought you were someone else.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “So you were wangled into this, too, huh?”

“Um, yeah.” She was relieved to find her vocal cords weren’t in a state of paralysis.

As always, Dickon was wearing a slightly-too-formal-for-school blazer, and his blond hair fell around his face in that fluffy way. Adorable. Unique. Intelligent. He was the embodiment of all the things she wanted in a guy. If she believed in stupid things like fate, she have thought it was destiny that they were working together on Valentine’s Day.

“Here are the class rosters,” he said, handing her a green binder. “We should probably get started; this could take a while.” His eyes scanned the field of gifts. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much pink in one place.”

“I have. My best friend’s bedroom.”

Dickon chuckled and picked up a bouquet of pink and white roses. He eyed the tag and said, “The quickest way to get this done might be to separate these into piles based on which class each is in. It will make delivery much more efficient.”

“Right,” Sansa said. “Organize by class. Okay.”

She was quite aware of how moronic she sounded with her less-than-eloquent replies, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. Just because her voice actually worked didn’t necessarily mean she could use it well in his presence. She’d been crushing on Dickon for three years, so to say he made her nervous would be a massive understatement.

Lucky for her, Dickon didn’t seem to notice. As they sorted the various gifts into groups, he even offered up some polite small talk. Slowly, Sansa found herself easing into a semi-comfortable chat with Dickon Tarly. A Valentine’s Day miracle! Well, _miracle_ was too strong of a word--a miracle would have been him sweeping her into his arms and laying one on her right there. So maybe this was more like a Valentine’s Day benefit. Either way, her awkward, idiotic dialogue began to ebb away. Thank the Seven!

“Wow, there’s a lot for Ros Mazin,”he said, placing a box of candy on top of a steadily growing pile. “Does she have six boyfriends?

“I only know about three,” Sansa replied. “But she doesn’t tell me everything.”

Dickon shook his head. “Jeez.” He picked up a card and began to check the label. “So what about you? Any Valentine’s Day plans?”

“Nope.”

He put the card in one of the piles. “Not even a date with the boyfriend?”

“That would require me _having_ a boyfriend,” she said. “Which I don’t.” Not wanting him to feel sorry for her, Sansa added, “But even if I did, I wouldn’t be doing anything special. Valentine’s Day is a stupid, pathetic excuse for a holiday.”

“You really think so?” he asked.

“Of course. I mean, there is a reason its initials are _VD._ I bet you more people contract syphilis on Valentine’s Day than on any other day of the year. What a cause for celebration.”

They laughed together, and for a minute it felt kind of natural.

“And you?” she asked. “Do you have plans with your girlfriend?”

“Well, we did,” he said and sighed. “But we broke up on Saturday, so those plans are now dead.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

But she wasn’t. Inside, she felt kind of ecstatic and overjoyed. Gods, she was such a freaking bitch.

“Me, too.” There was a momentary pause on the verge of being awkward, and then he said, “I think we have all of these sorted. Are you ready to start delivering?”

“I’m ready, but not very willing.” Sansa pointed to a large vase of assorted flowers. “Look at this. I would wager money that some girl sent this to herself so that she’d look good in front of her friends. How sad is that?”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t do it?” Dickon asked, a tiny smirk spreading across his boyish face.

“Never,” she said flatly. “Who cares what others think of me? So what if I don’t get a present on Valentine’s Day? It’s just vanity. Who do I need to impress?”

“I don’t know. I think Valentine’s Day is more about feeling special,” he said plucking a flower from the large vase. “I think every girl deserves to feel special once in a while. Even you, Sansa.” He reached over and tucked the flower’s stem behind her ear.

She tried to convince herself that this was completely cheesy and ridiculous. That if any other guy--Jon, for example--had tried a line like that, she might have slapped him or just laughed in his face. But she felt her face turn pink as his fingers brushed past her cheek. This wasn’t any other guy, after all. It was Dickon Tarly. Perfect, amazing, dreamy Dickon Tarly.

Maybe Valentine’s Day could be Duff-friendly after all.

“Come on,” he said. “Grab that pile and we’ll start passing these out.”

“Uh...okay.”

They might have been done delivering by the end of second period, but the secretary kept bringing more and more packages to the little tacky gold-colored table. It became clear to Dickon and Sansa that they’d be working until at least lunch.

Not that she minded spending the morning with Dickon Tarly.

 

“I don’t want to jinx it,” he said as they returned to the table, only five minutes before the lunch bell. “But I think we might be actually done.”

They reached the empty table and exchanged smiles, those her’s was halfhearted. “That’s it,” she said. “That was the last of them.”

“Yep.” Dickon leaned against the table. “You know, I’m glad they forced you to help. I would have been bored out of my mind if I’d done this by myself. It was fun talking to you.”

“I had fun, too,”Sansa said, trying no to sound too enthusiastic.

“Listen,”he said. “You shouldn’t sit in the back of the room in AP government. Why don’t you take one of the desks behind Gilly and me? There’s no reason for you to be alone back there. I think you should join us--the nerds in front of the room.”

“I might.” And, obviously, she knew she would. How could she refuse such a request from Dickon Tarly?

“Sansa Stark?” The secretary rounded the corner and approached them. There were no flowers and candy boxes in her hands this time. “Sansa, there’s someone here to sign you out.”

“Oh,” she said. “Um, okay.” Weird. She had a car. There was no reason for her to be checked out.

“See you later, Sansa,” Dickon called as she followed the secretary toward the front desk. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

She waved just before turning the corner, trying to remember whether or not she had a doctor’s appointment that day or something. Why was she being checked out of school? But before her mind could invent any family tragedies, the answer hit her like a ton of bricks, and she stopped dead in her tracks.

_Oh. My. Gods._

She stood at the front desk, looking like she’d just stepped off a soundstage somewhere in Vale. Her red hair fell around her shoulders in gentle, perfect waves. She wore a knee-length teal dress (without panty hose, of course) and high heels. Dark sunglasses covered her eyes-eyes that Sansa knew were a bright blue. She lifted the sunglasses as she turned to face Sansa.

“Hi, Sansa,” the beautiful woman said.

“Hi, Mom.”

* * *

 

Sansa could tell she was nervous by the way she stepped toward her. She looked shaky, and her eyes were wide with, from what Sansa could guess, fear. For good reason, too. Unlike her father, Sansa knew she’d meant to send those separation papers, and Sansa hated her for it. For not warning either of them. So Sansa shot her a warning glare and moved away when she approached her. This must have confirmed her worries, because her glance sank to the floor and she focused on the toe of her stiletto.

“I’ve missed you, Sansa,” her mother said.

“Sure you have.”

“Did you finish signing her out, Mrs. Stark?” the secretary asked, returning to her chair behind the tall desk.

“Yes, I did,” Mom said. Her voice founds its smooth, natural tone again. “So are we free to go, warden?”

“You’re released,” the secretary laughed. She fluffled her hair and added, “And I wanted you to know, I bought a copy of your book. It has been _such_ a lifesaver for me. I read it once a month.”

Mom smiled. “Oh, thank you! Glad to meet one of the ten people who’ve actually read it.”

The secretary beamed at her. “It changed my life.”

Sansa rolled her eyes.

Everyone loved her mother. She was funny, intelligent, and gorgeous. She looked a lot like Joan Allen in _The Ice Storm_ \--as far from being the Duff as you could possibly get. All of her flaws were hidden behind that pretty face, and her smile could deceive people into believing that pretty face, and her smile could deceive people into believing she was perfect. The secretary, who giggled and waved as Mom led Sansa out of the school, was just another fool.

“Where exactly are we going?” Sansa didn’t bother to shield her from her bitterness. She deserved it.

“Um...I don’t know,” Mom admitted. Her heels clacked on the smooth pavement as she walked. The sound stopped when they reached her car, a silver Porsche that looked like it had been lived in for a few days. It wasn’t hard to tell she’d driven here all the way from Vale. “Somewhere with heat?” She was trying to sound perky. “I’m freezing my booty off.”

“If you put some decent clothes on, you might not have that problem.” Sansa yanked open the passenger’s side door and pushed some junk out of the seat before sliding in. “Sorry this isn’t Vale. It gets cold here.”

“Oh, Vale isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Mom said. She looked tense as she got into the car, and her bubbly laugh was clearly nervous, not humorous. “It’s not as fun as the movies make it look, you know?”

“Really?” That’s weird. You seem to like better than Kings Landing. But then again, you like to be anywhere but here, don’t you?”

The laughter died, and the car became silent. Mom started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. Finally, with all her veils shredded, she whispered, “Sansa, we have to talk about this. I don’t think you understand what I’m going through right now.”

“Yeah, it looks tough, Mom.” Sansa snapped. “Nice tan, by the way. I know Vale must have been a real hellhole. _How_ did you manage?”

“Sansa Minisa Stark, I won’t take that attitude from you!” she shouted. “Despite what you think of me right now, I am still your mother, and I deserve a certain amount of respect.”

“Really?” Sansa snorted. “Like the respect you showed Dad by sending fucking separation papers without warning him? Or me! For Seven, Mother, what the hell is the matter with you?”

More silence.

Sansa knew this would get them nowhere. She knew she shoulder listen to her mom, consider mom’s side, and share her own feelings reasonably. Sansa had seen enough _Dr. Phil_ to know they needed to compromise, but she didn’t want to. Selfish, childish, immature...Sansa might have been all of those things, but her father’s face, the empty beer bottles she’d picked up last week, and the stupid separation papers just kept popping in her mind. Listen? Consider? Be reasonable? How were those even options? Her mom was just as childish and selfish as her. The only difference was that she hid it better.

Mom let out a slow breath before pulling the car over to the side of the road. She shut off the engine without saying a word, and Sansa stared out her window at an empty field, which would be full of high cornstalks when summer finally showed up. The gray February sky said everything. Cold. Bleak. A wasted day. A wasted effort. But Sansa wouldn’t speak first. She would let Mom be the adult for once in her life.

Seconds ticked by. The only sound in the car was their breathing. Mom gave short, hesitant gasps, as if she were on the verge of speaking but changed her mind before the first word could escape her lips. Sansa waited.

“Sansa,” she said eventually. They’d been quiet for at least five minutes. “I’m...I’m sorry. I’m so . . . so sorry.”

Sansa didn’t say anything.

“I didn’t want it to be like this.” The way her voice cracked made Sansa wonder if she was crying, but Sansa didn’t turned her head. “I haven’t been happy for a long time, and after your grandma died, your dad suggested I have a trip. I thought it might help. Like I’d escape for a while, give a few speeches in different towns, then come back and everything would be better. Go back to how it used to be when your dad and I got married. But…”

Her long, thin fingers trembled as they closed around Sansa’s hand. Reluctantly, she faced her mother. There were no tears on her cheeks, but Sansa could see a misty glitter in her eyes. The dam just hadn’t broken yet.

“But I was wrong,” Mom said. “I thought I could escape from my problems, but I was so wrong, Sansa. No matter where you go or what you do to distract yourself, reality catches up with you eventually. I came home, and after a few days, I felt it again, so I’d leave on another trip. I’d stay way a little longer, book a few more places to speak, go a little farther away...until I couldn’t go farther at all. It caught up with me on the other side of the country and I...I had to face it.”

“Face what?”

“That I need a break from your dad.” Mom looked down at their hands, still twined together. “I love your dad very much, but I feel I’m not _in_ love with him...not the way he’s in love with me. That’s cliche as heck, but it’s true. I can’t keep lying and pretending things are okay with us. I’m sorry.”

“So you want a separation?”

“Yes, I need space.”

Sansa sighed and looked out the window again. Still gray. Still cold.

“You’ll have to tell Dad,” she said. “He thinks it was a mistake. He doesn’t think you...you could ever do that to us.”

“Do you hate me?”

“No.”

The answer didn’t really surprise her, even though the word just flew out automatically. Sansa wanted to hate her. No so much for the separation; as much as she’d been gone for the past few years, the idea living with a single parent wasn’t all that new or upsetting. And honestly, she’d been expecting them to separate for a while. Really, she’d wanted to hate her for Dad. For the pain Sansa knew Mom was causing him. For that night he’d relapsed.

But it hit Sansa then. Mom didn’t cause that relapse. Sansa could blame her all she wanted, but that wouldn’t do any good. Mom had to take responsibility for her own life, and Dad had to do the same. By staying married, letting things go on the way they had for past three years, they’d both been living in denial.

Her mother was finally facing reality. Dad would have to face it, too.

“I don’t hate you, Mom.”

* * *

The sky had been black for hours by the time Mom dropped Sansa off in the high school parking lot, where they’d left her car. They’d spent the afternoon just driving around Kings Landing and talking about all that Mom had missed. The same way they did every time she came back from a tour. Only this time, she wouldn’t be coming home. At least not to stay.

“I’m gonna go see you dad now...I guess,” Mom said. “Maybe you should spend the night with Marge, honey. I just don’t know how he’ll react...That’s a lie. I do know how he’ll react, and it won’t be good.”

Sansa nodded, hoping Mom was wrong--though their definitions of _not good_ were different. Sansa hadn’t mentioned his relapse to her, mostly since it had passed without any significant drama. Mom was afraid of tears and yelling--the things that should be expected with a confrontation of this kind. Sansa didn’t want to make her worry about the drinking, too. Especially since it hadn’t been that big of a deal in the end.

“Gods,” Mom whispered. “I feel horrible. I’m telling my husband I want a separation on Valentine’s Day. I’m such...a _bitch._ Maybe I should wait until tomorrow and--”

“You have to tell him, Mom. If you put it off now, you’ll never do it.” Sansa unfastened her seat belt. “I’ll call Marge and see if I can stay with her. You should go now...before it gets too late.”

“Okay.” Mom took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay, I will.”

Sansa opened the door of the Porsche and climbed out. “It’ll be fine.”

Mom shook her head and fiddled with the keys dangling from the ignition. “You shouldn’t have to be the grown-up.” she murmured. “I’m the mother. I should be comforting you, telling you it will be okay. This is so dysfunctional.”

“Functionality is overrated.” Sansa gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Mom. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” she sighed. “I love you, Sansa.”

“I love you too.”

“Bye, baby.”

Sansa shut the door and stepped away from the car. With her smile still firmly intact, she waved and watched as the little silver Porsche drifted out of the parking lot and turned onto the highway, where it hesitated as if debating whether or not to proceed. But her mother drove on. So Sansa kept waving.

As soon as the taillights vanished, Sansa allowed the smile to slip from her face. Yes, she knew things would be okay. Yes, she knew Mom was doing the right thing. Yes, she knew this was a step in the right direction for both of her parents. But she knew Dad wouldn’t see it that way...at least not at first. She’d smiled to reassure Mom, but for Dad she hung her head.

She pulled the car keys out of her back pocket and unlocked the door. After throwing her stuff onto the passenger’s seat. She climbed inside and shut the door, putting a wall between her already shaking body and the February night. For several minutes, Sansa just sat in the silent car, trying not to think or worry about her parents.

That was impossible, of course. Hot tears ran down her face and began sobbing.

It must’ve been at least an hour when the tears stopped. She reached a hand into her purse and began sifting through the clutter of gum wrappers and pens. Finally, she located her cell phone. She called Marge.

“Hello, Sans! When are you coming over to Dany’s? Missandei just came with loads of kettle corn, your favorite!”

Sansa could hear Dany and Missandei giggling in the background along with James McAvoy’s voice declaring his love to Keira Knightley. They were having fun. She couldn’t ruin their Valentine’s Day. She didn’t want to burden them. She couldn’t drag them in this pain she was feeling. She loved them too much.

“I…...I can’t.” Sansa choked up, feeling the tears coming again.

“.....Sansa, is everything alright? Where are you?” Marge’s voice was full of worry.

“....I’m fine. I just….my mom came back and--”

“Oh. That’s good isn’t it?”

Tears, once more, slid down Sansa’s cheeks as she imagined Mom coming up to the door and Dad having a big smile on his face, falsely believing Mom was going to be back for good and the papers had been a fluke. She bit her lip and wiped the tears off with her sleeves.

“Yeah it is.” Sansa tried her best to sound happy. It sounded fake and Marge had to know that too.

“.....Are you sure?”

“I promise.”

“Okay, then. I guess you’ll want to spend time with her. If you change your mind, we are here waiting for you.”

“Thanks, Marge.”

“You’re welcome, Sans, just know we love you and remember you can talk to us.”

“.....I…..uh…..I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I’ll take the four of us to breakfast. I promise.”

“Alright, see you Sans. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“See you Marge and Happy Valentines’ to you three.”

“I will.” Marge still sounded worried before she hung up.

Sansa took a deep breath and started the car, driving out of the parking lot.

* * *

 

She knocked on the door and a few seconds later, Jon was looking at her. His brown eyes started to fill with concern.

“You okay?”

“Yeah...um did I interrupt anything?” She asked as she followed him inside.

“No not really. I just finished my essay for AP Biology few hours ago. I was about to do another _Injustice_ match online.”

“Wait when you said you were _busy_ , you meant homework and _Injustice_?”

“Yep.”

“But I thought….you had today lined up for other _activities.”_

Jon looked at her and shook his head. “No, I hate Valentine’s Day.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s full of fake promises and shit.” He mumbled as he walked over to his kitchen. He opened the fridge and stared at its contents. “Do you want anything?”

“Do you have Orange Crush?”

He chuckled. “You’re in luck. I bought some the other day.”

“You did?”

“You’re converting me to it.” He grabbed a can and gave it to her, his fingers slightly touching hers. She felt that shivery feeling again.

“I’m still having a hard time grasping why you would hate today so much.”

“Don’t you hate it too?” Jon replied, as he grabbed an Orange Crush for himself.

“Yes- but that’s expected. I would assume you have bunches of girls messaging you about today.” Sansa sipped at her can.

“I mute them.”

“Do you at least tell them that you’re busy before they text you?”

“I’ve done it in the past and they’ve ignored me. So I decided to ignore them this year.”

“.....I messaged you.” she spoke softly as she placed her can on the counter.

“I _wanted_ to see you.”

Sansa rose her head up and searched his face for any indication of a lie in there. There wasn’t.

“You wanted to see me? We piss each other off most of the time. I’d think I would be the last person you’d want to see.”

“You’re not. I’d like to consider us…sort of friends _._ ” His voice seemed a little nervous.

“Really?”

“...Yeah. I mean I really like talking to you. You’re unapologetic. I admire that....a lot--”

Sansa felt a loss of words. So many thoughts were racing through her mind.

“But I understand if you don’t....um...want to consider us friends.” Jon’s voice brought her back to reality.

“I….um...like that you think deeply about things. I’ve noticed that more, lately.” Sansa admitted and Jon smiled. She liked that smile out of the tons she’d seen over the last few weeks. It felt real, kind,....and genuine. She couldn’t help but smile back.

A long silence came between them but it didn’t feel awkward like it did usually. It felt comfortable.

“Do you want to play some _Injustice?”_ Jon finally asked.

“Sure.”

* * *

 

“Are you kidding me?”

Sansa gawked at the giant flat-screen, feeling her face get hot. _Again? Seriously?_ That was the tenth time in a row Jon had beaten her since they came up to his room to play _Injustice._

“I told you, I’m awesome at everything,” he teased, putting the PS4 controller on the floor between them. “That includes video games.”

Sansa watched as Batman, who Jon had been operating, do a smoking disappearing act while Catwoman, who was groaning in pain laid on the ground. “Not fair,” she muttered. “Batman’s weapon was bigger than mine.”

“My weapon is bigger than everyone’s.”

Sansa lobbed her controller at his head, but he ducked and made her miss. “Perv.”

“Oh, come,”he laughed. “You walked right into that one.”

She scowled at him for a moment, but she could feel the aggravation slipping away. Finally, she just shook her head...and smiled. “Okay, you’re right. I did leave that one wide open. But you know, boys that talk big never are.”

Jon frowned. “We both know that isn’t true. I’ve proved it to you plenty of times” He smirked, then leaned against her, letting his lips brush against her ear. “But I can prove it again if you want me to..and you _know_ you want me to.”

“I….I don’t think that’s necessary,” Sansa managed. His lips were moving down her neck, sending an electric current up her spine.

“Oh,” he growled playfully. “ _I do.”_

She laughed as he shoved her to the floor, one of his hands perfectly catching the space above her left hip where she was most ticklish. Ever since he’d discovered that spot, he could make her squirm and laugh uncontrollably. Sansa could tell that get totally got off on it.

His fingers probed the sensitive spot over her hip as his mouth moved from her collarbone to her ear. She was laughing so hard she could hardly breathe. Not fair. She made a half hearted attempt to kick him away, but he trapped her leg between his and proceeded to tickle her harder.

Just when she thought she might pass out from lack of oxygen, Sansa felt something vibrate in her back pocket. “Jon, stop.” She cried, gently pushing Jon away. He rolled off her, and she stumbled to her feet.

“Hello?”

“Hi, sweetie.”

“Hi mom.” Sansa noticed her mom’s voice still seemed nervous as she moved to go out in the hallway. “Is everything okay? Did you talk to Dad?”

“I took him to dinner to catch up.”

“.....Did you tell him then?”

“No. I wanted to soften the blow of telling him that I want a separation.”

Sansa started to tense. Why beat around the bush? If anything, it might make it harder for Dad to take the news. But really, Sansa shouldn’t be surprised. Mom had a habit of “softening” the blow. Sansa just hoped this time it wouldn’t go awry.

“I hope it goes well.”

“I do too, Baby. Wish me luck.”

“I will.”

“Goodnight Sansa, I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

Sansa took a deep breath and slid against the wall. _Everything is going to be okay. Mom is going to talk to Dad, it’s going to be civil and it will be…..Gods. Dad, I hope he’s going to be okay. I hope he’ll take it well…..He’s probably not. Poor Dad._

She felt tears coming down on her cheeks and rested her face against her knees while her arms went around to hug them. She cried for her parents. For her Mom and her bravery. For her Dad and his broken heart. For her friends and their loyalty to her that was undeserved. She was a shitty friend who kept lying to them and withholding things. She cried towards her anger at herself. For being a stupid girl who never learned. Why was she such a coward? Why couldn’t she tell Mom about what happened with Dad?

She had been crying and vastly deep in her own thoughts she hadn’t even noticed the comforting motion of someone rubbing her back during it.  She slowly looked at Jon, who was sitting next to her, and he gave her a sad smile.

“When...when did you come out here?” Sansa asked.

“About thirty minutes ago. You didn’t come back and I got worried something bad happened.”

“Thank you for….comforting me.”

“You’re welcome. Do you….um want to talk about it?”

Sansa nodded. She was tired of lying and withholding.

“My….Mom came back today. She’s been gone for months and she came back because she wants to get a separation from my Dad.” Her voice broke at the end and she felt Jon wrap his arms around her.

“Oh, Gods. I am so sorry Sansa.” He murmured.

Sansa wept and hugged Jon tighter. They sat there for several minutes. It was the first time in a while, her shoulders didn’t feel so burdened.

It felt really nice.

* * *

 Jon looked over at Sansa as she slept.

Seven hells, she’s…..beautiful.

Sansa was…. Gods… she was _so_ ... _confusing_ . Her body was lean and lithe, her red hair was gorgeous -it reminded him of Ariel. He liked running his hands through it.  He enjoyed the feeling of her hands digging into his shoulders, leaving scratches behind. He _loved_ the sounds she made when they were together.

He also enjoyed the sound of her soft laugh and her sardonic one. She was sexy when she was pissed. He tried to piss her off at least once. Her blue eyes shimmered differently through every emotion she displayed. They hid nothing about the true way she felt. He loved the way her frown could change so effortlessly into a smile and he felt a pang in the rare times, she truly smiled at him.

But one thing haunted him in the back of his mind. The one thing that kept any profess with Sansa. The stupid word Duff.

He hadn’t known her then. He didn’t know her sarcastic humor. Her neurotic -ness. Her awkwardness. Her loyalty and love for her family and friends. Her fierceness. Her unapologetic nature. Her intelligence and deep thoughts.

Why did he ever call her that? Why did he let his stupid cousin Aegon tell him to use that word to describe a woman?

 _I’m not going to call Sansa that again._ He knew it hurt her and he was a complete asshole for calling her that. He could tell when she lied but he was too much of a coward to do anything about it. _Not anymore._

Jon then heard RuPaul’s _Call Me Mother_  playing.

_Satin._

Why on earth was Satin calling him at--Jon looked at the time on his alarm clock--1 a.m?

He slid out of bed slowly to not disturb Sansa and went out into the hall.

“Satin? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to ask….wait why are you whispering? Are your parents back?!”

_Yeah right, like they’d be here. It would take a miracle._

“No. I...I didn’t want to wake up-”

“You have a girl there on Valentine’s Day?! You hate today….who is it? I know it isn’t Ros, which by the way, she’s still pissed from your rejection-” Satin acknowledged,

He remembered earlier in the day Ros Mazin walked up to him as he was going to his next class.

“Hi, Jon.” Ros batted her eyes.

“Hi, Ros.” Jon continued looking towards the direction of AP Biology.

Frustrated with his indifference, Ros curled her fingers around his bicep and stopped him. Well, not really. He outweighed her by a lot along with the fact he was a foot taller than her. He could’ve eased out of it but she was just going to keep on until he finally listened to what she had to say.

“I was wondering if you had plans this Valentine’s Day?” Ros tried to give him her sexiest smile. It didn’t work.

“Yeah. I have to write a AP Biology paper that’s due Monday.”

“Well after you finish?” Ros ran her hand along his arm up and down.

“It’s going to take me a while _.”_ He gently but firmly eased his arm out her grasp.

“What’s it on _?”_

“It’s about Anthrax as a bio-chemical weapon along with the moral questions that come along with it.” He started walking towards his class again.

“Maybe I can help! Anthrax….is the glitter sticker incident isn’t it?”

_Oh. Seven. Hells._

“........Ros, I’m very sorry. I have to do this on my own. Have a good weekend.” He stated blunty and walked on to class.

“--she wouldn’t stop bitching’ about it at The Dragon Pit. I saw her leave with Willas Tyrell.” Satin’s voice brought him back to the present moment.

_Good, I’m glad she left with Willas Tyrell. Takes him off the market and I don’t have to see Sansa--What in Seven Hells?_

He’d never gotten jealous over a girl before until Sansa was talking about Willas Tyrell. He also saw the way she looked at Dickon Tarly when he saw them delivering Valentines, he wished she looked at him that way. _Not that I deserve it._

“Jon, you still there?” Satin asked.

“Yeah, I’m still here.”

“Who is the girl? She has to mean a lot if you wanted her to come over today.”

“She’s….I’ll tell you about her when I see you tomorrow. You also better tell me about that Renly guy and how that went.”

“Hoorah…” Satin sounded somber.

“Did it go well?”

“If you consider well-I looked at his phone after it buzzed when he got up from the table and it was this Loras guy messaging him.”

“Maybe they’re friends?”

“....Jon, we’ve been friends- almost brothers,  for years right?”

“Yes.”

“Then I would expect you to tell by my tone that they’re _not just friends_.”

“I was trying to make it a bit better. Was he sending lovey dovey texts?”  
“I know and no, I wish it were that. The Loras guy was sending naked pictures.”

_Poor Satin…_

“Shit that’s awful man.”

“I know but on the bright side my life is cleansed from him. Satin Flowers is back on the market!”

“That’s the way to think!”

“I’m so excited to go on Tinder again. Renly was massively boring….Seven Hells, Jon, we’ve been talking for forty minutes. I’ll let you go to that _special girl_ whose managed to crack you. I cannot wait to find out who she is! See you tomorrow and don’t forget! Goodnight, brother from another mother.” Satin spoke.

“Goodnight, brother from RuPaul.” Jon chuckled and walked back to his room.

He gently lifted the sheets and slid under quietly. He closed his eyes for a just a second when he felt the bed shift and heard Sansa mumble. “Where’d you go?”

“I got a call from Satin.”

“...doesn’t he know humans sleep at-- She rose up and glimpsed over him to look at his alarm clock, “1:45?”

“He usually knows I’m up playing a video game around this time. He was quite shocked hearing me sound quiet. I’m quite loud.”

“You don’t say.” Sansa said quietly and he almost missed it. Almost.

“What was that?” Jon rose up, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing.” She scoffed and started to lay back down but Jon caught her waist.

“It was _not nothing._ You just said I’m quite loud.”

“.....Yeah when you’re talking.” She shrugged with challenge in her eyes.

_Oh, I will accept this challenge._

He lifted her into his lap and began kissing her neck.

“I’m not loud at anything _else_?” He whispered in her ear and she trembled.

“.....maybe.” Her fingers gripped in his curls.

“That’s in the middle. That’s not really a yes or a no.”He moved from her neck to her collarbone. She pulled him closer.

“.....yes.” She mumbled.

“Are you?” He rose his head and looked in her eyes. Her eyes were darker and as always, shimmering.

“What?” She moved her hands from his curls to his shoulders.

“Loud?” He asked and came closer to her face.

“I’m not sure. I think I’m a bit on the quiet side. But that can be fixed, can’t it?”

Her lips went into a sweet smile and Jon smiled back. “ _Yes it can._ Let’s remedy that.”

Maybe Valentine’s Day didn’t always have to suck.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Say Amen (Saturday Night)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little more serious. 
> 
> **Jon has not slept with anyone but Sansa since their arrangement. To also add even before their arrangement began, he hasn't slept with anyone in eight months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to two people.
> 
> Brendan Urie because --He has the voice of an angel.
> 
> Angelhug--a new chapter is here.

Sansa had never heard anything so freaking loud in her life. It sounded like a bomb was going off right next to her ear...a bomb that pulsed to the beat of Panic! At the Disco’s “Say Amen (Saturday Night).” Groggily she rolled over and picked up her vibrating cell phone of the nightstand, glancing at the time before she answered.

Six thirty in the morning.

“Hello?” She groaned.

“Sorry to wake you up, Baby,” Mom said through the speaker. “I didn’t wake Marge and Dany up too, did I?”

“Mm-mm. You’re fine. What’s up?”

“I left the house about two hours ago,” she said. “Your dad and I had a very long talk, but he… didn’t handle it very well, Sansa. I knew he wouldn’t. Anyway, I’ve just been driving around since then, trying to figure out what to do next. I’ve decided to check into a hotel in Red Keep for a few days so that I can spend some time with you, and this weekend I’m gonna start moving down to Riverlands. Your granddad needs someone to look after him. It’ll be a nice place to settle down. Don’t you think?”

“Sure,” Sansa murmured.

“I’m sorry,” Mom said. “I should have told you all this later. Go back to sleep. Call me when you and girls are done with your fun filled Saturday. I’ll tell you which hotel I’m in and maybe we can see a movie tonight!”

“Sounds good. Bye, Mom.”

“Bye, Baby.”

Sansa put her phone back on the nightstand and stretched her arms over her head, stifling a yawn. This bed, with its cushy mattress and silky sheets, was too comfortable. If she wasn’t careful, she’d miss the breakfast date with Marge and Dany. Around seven fifty-five, she managed to plant her feet on the carpet.

“Where are you going?” Jon asked in a semi-sleepy voice.

“I’m going to Hot Pie’s to meet Marge, Dany, and Missandei for breakfast.” Sansa replied as she pulled on her jeans. “I gotta take a shower and get ready.”

Jon pushed himself up on one elbow to look at her. His hair was a mess, brown curls falling into his eyes and sticking up in the back. “You can shower here,” he offered. “I might even join you if you’re lucky.”

“No, thanks.” Sansa grabbed her jacket off the floor and slung it over her shoulders. “Will I wake your parents up if I go out the front door?”

“That would be difficult considering they’re not here.”

“They didn’t come home last night?”

“They won’t be home for a week,” Jon said . “And only the Seven knows how long they’ll stay then. A day. Maybe two.”

Now that Sansa thought about it, she’d never seen another car in the almost mansion’s driveway. Jon always seemed to be the only one here when she came over--which was pretty freaking often these days. “Where are they?”

“I don’t remember.” He shrugged and rolled onto his back again. “Business trip. Pentos vacation. I can never keep up with them.”

“What about your sister?”

“Arya stays with her friend Gendry’s house when my parents are out of town,” he said. “Which is essentially all the time.”

Slowly Sansa moved back to the bed. “So,” She said quietly, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “Why don’t you stay there, too?” I bet your sister would like having you around.”

“She might,” Jon agreed. “My godmother, Mrs. Baratheon , however, is a different story. She detests me. She doesn’t approve of my”--he made air quotes-- “ _lifestyle_. Apparently I’m a disgrace to the Snow name, and my father ought to be ashamed of me.” His laugh was hollow and cold. “Because he and my mother are the staple of perfection, you know.”

“How does Mrs. Baratheon know about your, uh, lifestyle?”

“She hears gossip from her friends. Rich women hear their daughters  swooning over me--and who can blame them?- and then they tell all about it. She might actually _like_ me if I’d date a girl seriously for a while, but a part of me just doesn’t give her the satisfaction. I shouldn’t have to change my life to suit or anyone else.” He picks at his nails and lets out a long sigh.

“I understand what you mean.” And Sansa did. Because she’d had that same thought a million times over the years. Recently, it even pertained to him. It would be easy to change Jon’s _opinion_ of her. She could put on more makeup and dress more modernly to avoid being the Duff. But why should she do anything just to fix what he or anyone else thought of her? She shouldn’t have to.

And neither should Jon.

Somehow, though, his situation felt different. Sansa glanced around the room, feeling stupid for even comparing it to it to the Duff issue. Then, without meaning to, Sansa found herself asking, “But don’t you get lonely? In this big house by yourself?”

Oh Seven Hells. Was she actually feeling _sorry_ for _Jon_ ? Jon the womanizer? Of all the _emotions_ she’d _felt_ for _him_ , sympathy had never come up. What the hell was going on?

But if there was anything she could relate to, it was family drama. So it seemed like Jon and her had some stuff in common.

“You forget how rarely I’m alone.” Jon pushed himself into a sitting position and looked at her with a smirk. But it didn’t touch his eyes, and there was a small catch in his voice. “You’re not the only one who finds me irresistible. I _usually_ have a endless flow of attractive houseguests.”

Sansa bit her lip, not sure if she should say what was on her mind. Finally, she decided she might as well throw it out there. It wouldn’t do any harm, after all. “Listen, Jon, this may sound weird coming from me, since I _hate_ you and all, but you can tell stuff if you want.” It sounded like something out of a cheesy G-rated movie. Seven Hells. “I mean, I vented all of my shit to you about Viserys and my parents separation, so if you want to do the same,...well, I’m cool with that.”

Jon’s smirk slipped. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Then he cleared his throat and added stiffly, “Didn’t you say that you needed to get ready to meet your friends at Hot Pie’s? You don’t want to be late.”

“Right.”

Sansa started to stand, but his warm hand closed around her wrist. She turned around and found him _looking_ at _her_. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. It felt so soft, gentle, and greedless. Before she could even respond, he pulled away and whispered, “Thank you, Sansa.”

“Um...no problem.”

Sansa didn’t know what to make of it. Every other time Jon and her had kissed, it had been a fierce, warlike make-out. A lead-in to sex. He’d never kissed her like that and it kinda freaked her out.

But she didn’t have time to think about it as she ran down the stairs and through the foyer. Once she was in her car, she had to speed--which she hated to do--all the way to her house, and she still didn’t get there before eight thirty. That gave her only an hour to shower, get dressed, and check on Dad. What a fantastic way to start the morning.

Even better was the fact that she could tell the living room lights were on when she pulled into her driveway. Not a good sign. Dad always- _always_ -turned out every light in the house before bed. He treated it like a ritual. The fact that he’d left them on was definitely a bad omen.

Sansa heard the snoring as soon as she tiptoed inside and instantly knew he’d bought more beer. Even before she saw the bottles on the coffee table or his unconcious form on the couch, she knew.

He’d gotten drunk enough to pass out.

Sansa started to move forward but stopped herself. As much as she might want to, she didn’t have time to clean up Dad’s mess. She needed to go upstairs. She needed to get ready quickly to meet the girls. And as she crept up to her bedroom, she told herself that he would be fine. He was just shocked, it would be fine, and this...episode would pass without incident. She could hardly hold a few drinks against the guy, considering the bombshell Mom dropped on him, could she?”

She took a quick shower and blow-dried her hair. As she looked in the mirror she noticed red marks around her necklace. _Shit Jon._ Hickeys littered around her neck and she told him a few weeks _under no circumstance_ place a hickey on her neck and if he tried to, she’d just smack his ass. Though he always chuckled and then would moved his lips somewhere else. But considering all the _festivities_ that happened last night and feeling she was flying out in outer space among the stars...it didn’t cross her mind at all.

She didn’t have enough time to put foundation on her neck. So she walked quickly to her Dad’s closet and threw on a black long sleeved high neck shirt. It luckily smelled like pine and mint instead of beer. She quietly skipped down the steps and jogged towards her car.

Sansa looked in the mirror in the car and put on a little mascara and observed her neck once more. She saw a little peek of red over the neck of the shirt. She contemplated going back to the house to get a scarf but then her phone rang.

“Hey Sans! We’re here at Hot Pie’s. Where are you?” Marge’s voice filled the car.

“Hi Marge! I’m just running a little late. I had to change last minute, my outfit wasn’t quite working. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Lovely, I’ll see you soon sister from another mister. Be careful.”

“I will. See you all in a few.”

* * *

“I’ll have the chicken biscuit with tater rounds please.” Sansa told the waitress. The waitress smiled and then went to put the order in.

Dany and Missandei were deep in conversation, and Sansa felt Marge’s eyes on her.

“What?”

“In our long friendship, I’ve never seen you wear a high neck shirt. It’s weird.”

“Gotta try something different, you know?” Sansa shrugged and took a sip of her water.

“You’re hiding something.”

“No, I’m not.” Sansa scoffed.

“Sansa, you are a terrible liar.”

“She’s not wrong.” Dany chimed in and Missandei just shrugged.

Why can’t professional lying classes be available at the high school?

“I just wanted to wear this. Isn’t this in?”

“Yes...but you don’t care about fashion...You are most definitely hiding something.” Marge laughed and then reached over to pull the high neck down. Her green eyes got big and her jaw slightly dropped. Ugh why?

“OH SEVEN HELLS!!!!!! Sansa Stark, your neck is covered in hickeys!”

“No, it isn’t Marge. It’s from my straightner. Could you be a little quieter?”

“Straighteners have teeth designs in them now? I wonder if they have dragon designs?” Dany asked herself and Sansa felt her face turn redder than her hair.

“Who is he? Tell us everything!” A big smile played on Marge’s face along with Dany and Missandei smiling giddily.

Sansa opened her mouth and her eyes widened when she saw Jon walk in with Satin. He was in mid-conversation and turned, a slight smile turned on his face. He mouthed “ _You look good.”_ Then he went along with Satin to sit down. She blinked several times and then was brought back into reality when Marge snapped her fingers in front of her face.

“Earth to Sansa? Where’d you go?”

“I saw Jon Snow and I….”

“Felt you were flying among the stars?” Missandei murmured quietly and Sansa begged herself inwardly to not be obvious.

“ _Yeah right_ . Like Jon Snow would make me feel anything but _disgust._ I actually need to talk to him about something in one of our classes...if that’s alright?”

“Go on ahead. Work on changing that _disgust_ to _lust_.” Marge laughed.

_Oh Marge if you only knew the depth of it._

Sansa slid from the bench and walked up to Jon and Satin’s table. Satin smiled at her and Jon turned his body. He gave a smirk. Typical.

“Hello Satin. Hello Jon.”

“Hi Sansa! You look absolutely hot in the outfit! Doesn’t she Jon?”

“She looks _alright.”_ His face said one thing but his tone said another. He was making her feel so much and it wasn’t even afternoon yet.

“Jon, can I talk to you about that government assignment? It seems I might’ve messed up.”

“Sure. I’ll be right back Satin.” Jon nodded to Satin and slid out the booth and followed her outside.

“You look really _sexy_ in that outfit.” Jon spoke as they stood beside her car. She fought off the urge to blush. _Get down to matters Sansa._

“I had to wear this outfit because of the _gifts_ you left around my neck from last night. I told you specifically not to put them _there_. Marge, Dany, and Missandei are asking who placed them there!”

“You weren’t complaining about them last night. But if you want to play that way, you almost made me bald after pulling my hair so much from last night. My head is still _sore_.”

“You weren’t _complaining_ about it last night.” Sansa shrugged and Jon chuckled.

“Alright fair enough. I have a few solutions. Tell the girls it’s this random one night stand you met, you can’t remember his name to save your life. He’s killer in bed.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and Jon scoffed. “Judging by how many times _you_ moaned _my name_ last night I would assume you agree _wholeheartedly_ . Secondly, about the hickey thing. How about I let you go to town tonight and then I can give you hickeys _below_ your neck. I can get some us Orange Crush and some food beforehand. How does that _sound?”_ He spoke softly and it took everything in her not to grab him, throw him in the backseat of her car and go on about his promises right now.

She nodded quickly and then led them back to them back inside Hot Pie’s. They went back to their respective tables.

She sat down across her friends. They all looked her expectantly and she took a sip of her water. She leaned back and spoke up “He was a random one night stand, we used protection, _loads of it_ . He is _magnificent_ in bed.”

“Can you remember his name?!” Marge asked.

“No, sadly. It was just a _one time thing.”_

* * *

 

Jon rose up joining Sansa as they moved together like a well oiled machine.

“ _Ooooh.”_ She moaned as he placed hickeys on her breasts. Her fingers tightened around his curls and she heard him have a slight groan.  He rose up and kissed her hard and ran his fingers through her hair. They began moving faster and her hands slid from his hair down to his back to grip it. Things were getting tense and then they placed their foreheads against one another.

They moaned in unison.

_Complete bliss._ Sansa mused to herself as she slid off of Jon’s lap. She laid down beside him and closed her eyes for a few seconds to get a breather.

Finally she decided to look over at him. He was asleep, thankfully. She made good on her side of the promise. His body was full of hickeys, especially on his chest and abs.  It made her feel _proud_ . She looked down at her own body and it mirrored if not _outshadowed_ his. He fulfilled his side of the promise and _then some_ .  She smiled to herself. She took another glance at him. His lips smiled in his sleep. His hair was wild on the pillowcase. His unnecessary long lashes covering those pretty brown eyes, tightening closer to his cheeks, signifying a shift into the deeper part of sleep. (Sansa loved studying sleep patterns.) It was really unfair...He was really _beautiful_ whether he was awake or asleep. Lately, she’d been noticing he had hints of a beautiful soul. That was….complicating things. She simply needed to remind herself that it was a frenemies with benefits agreement. He didn’t find her attractive whatsoever. So why was she getting these _deep_ feelings for him?

She closed her eyes and prayed to the Seven that that things would get better for her parents--especially for her Dad. That she would stop lying and be a better friend/sister to Marge, Dany, and Missandei. Lastly those feelings that made her heart feel electrified would go away.

She woke again later in the night when she felt a change in the bed. She slightly opened her eyes and saw that Jon had moved in his sleep, he was on his stomach very _close_ to _her. Save me Seven._

She shifted slowly to the other side of the bed to put space between them.

It didn’t matter though. Jon got closer to her in the night she’d noticed when she woke up around eleven on Sunday.

No this wasn’t going to be easy for her at all it seemed.

  
  


  
  
  
  
  



	11. There's No Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting intense and confusing fast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Readers!
> 
> I'm back after seven months! I apologize for the long break!  
> The chapter is named after There's No Way by Lauv & Julia Michaels.  
> I am cautiously excited for season 8!
> 
> I missed you all! *Hela voice from Thor Ragnarok*
> 
> -Winterfellsummerose17

Dad wasn’t better the next day.

Or the day after that.

He eventually went back to work at the end of the week, but Sansa was sure she wasn’t the only one who noticed the hangovers he took with him. It seemed there was always beer or whiskey lying around the house now. He was always passed out on the couch or locked in his room. He never mentioned to her. As if Sansa didn’t notice. Was she supposed to notice it? Pretend it wasn’t that big of a deal?

Sansa wanted to say something. She wanted to beg him to stop. Tell him he was making a terrible mistake. But where was that courage? How does a seventeen-year-old persuade her father that she knows what’s best? If she tried to stop him, he might get defensive. He might think she’d abandoned him, too. He might get angry with her.

Sansa wanted to say something. She wanted to beg him to stop. Tell him he was making a terrible mistake. But where was that courage? How does a seventeen-year-old persuade her father that she knows what’s best? If she tried to stop him, he might get defensive. He might think she’d abandoned hom, too. He might get angry with her.

Since Dad had stopped drinking before she was born, Sansa didn’t really know much about the whole sobriety process. She knew he had a sponsor at one point. Some tall, kind-faced man named Davos from the Stormlands that  Mom had always sent Christmas cards to when she was a kid. Dad didn’t talk about him anymore, and Sansa was sure that, even if she tried, she wouldn’t have been able to locate his number. If she had, what would she say? How did that whole sponsor thing work?

Sansa felt powerless, useless, and full of shame. She knew full and well that with Mom gone, it was her job to do something. She just didn’t have a clue what that something was.

* * *

So in the weeks after Mom left for the Riverlands, Sansa spent most of her time at home avoiding Dad. She’d never really seen him drunk in her life, so she didn’t know what to expect. All she had to go on were bits and pieces of a conversation she’d overheard when she was little. He was an angry person once. He has a temper. She couldn’t fathom her father being like that, but she didn’t want to start anytime soon. So she stayed in her bedroom, and he stayed in his.

Sansa kept telling herself it would pass. In the present day, she’d been able to keep his secret to herself. Luckily for her, Mom was gullible enough to believe her whenever she told her everything was fine over the phone, despite Sansa’s mind racing and heartbreaking minute by minute.

Sansa did release some tension by telling Marge the reason she had been distant and standoffish was that she was stressing out over AP Exams. Not a complete lie. It was stressful to study for the AP Exams on top of her life falling apart by the seams.

Marge somewhat believed her, but she knew Sansa was withholding. Thankfully, Marge was the type to not force things out until Sansa felt ready to discuss them. Sansa was utterly grateful for that.

However, being the person Marge was, she couldn’t resist giving Sansa _helpful advice._

“You need to get laid. It will relieve stress. You should try to find your one nighter.” Marge stated and  Sansa about choked on her tea.

“What?!..... Urm he…. uh. It was super dark and I was drunk. Can’t remember his voice all that well.” Sansa lied her ass off.

_Voice….Really Sansa?!_

“Just tell me what he looks like and I guarantee you’ll be under him tonight.” Marge smiled while Dany and Missandei cheered in glee.

_Oh, Marge...you have no idea._

Sansa rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“Eh. I’m good. I have to study AP Biology tonight.”

* * *

Sansa placed her hands on Jon’s chest as she rocked on him. She bit the inside of her cheek trying to not moan. She didn’t want to give him that satisfaction after English class. Seeing him _talk_ with Arianne Martell filled her with fury. Arianne Martell was like a Disney princess with her blemish-free tan skin, dark brown eyes and hair, and a sweet mindset- everything Sansa wished she had when she was younger. They looked so _perfect_ together. It felt her heart was getting ripped into shreds. _Why though? He wasn’t her boyfriend. He wasn’t even a friend? He was just her sex pal._ _Right...Right?_

“What’s wrong?” Jon’s voice cut off her thoughts and she realized she had stopped moving.

“Nothing.” Sansa lied, starting to move her hips again but Jon gently placed one hand on her waist and one softly on her cheek.

“ _Nothing_ is _something._ What’s wrong Sansa?”

Sansa contemplated it. _Lie again or tell the truth? Decisions, decisions._

“I saw you talking with Arianne and I….. needed to talk to you about the homework,” Sansa mumbled, praying he hadn’t heard her.

Oh, but he had. She could tell by the small smirk forming on his face.

“You needed to talk to me about _homework?_ You could’ve asked me here. Unless you were… _Jealous.”_ He laughed softly.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not _jealous._ I’m just _impatient.”_ Sansa huffed.

“I don’t believe you.” Jon started chuckling and Sansa moved off of him and began to get one foot on the floor but then Jon grabbed her waist, flipping her on her back, slightly hovering over her.

“ _Sansa”_ Jon husked over her and Sansa rubbed her thighs together. Jon kissed her hard and she buried her fingers in his curls.

“ _You have no reason to be jealous.”_ He smiled softly running a thumb across her cheek.

“You’re intelligent.” He kissed her ear and nipped at her earlobe.

“You’re funny as hell.” He kissed her neck, surely leaving a hickey.

“You’re fiercely loyal.” He kissed her shoulder blade and she shuddered.

“You’re empathetic.” He softly kissed a breast and then suckled on it. Sansa hummed.

“You’re full of grace.” He was kissing down her stomach and Sansa rose her eyebrows in confusion.

“What….what… what are you doing?’ She propped herself up on her elbows and looked at Jon, eyes full of desire and….. _something._

“I’m complimenting you, _that’s_ what I’m doing.” He laughed and Sansa felt her stomach fill with anticipation.

“Just so you’re aware, the…..uh next _compliment…._ well I’ve never gotten a compliment like that before.” Her laugh half filled with excitement and nervousness.

Jon smiled at her, placing his hand where she was most ticklish giving her a jolt.

“I have a feeling you’ll love this _compliment._ ” His voice filled with the utmost confidence.

“Well, we’ll see about……...THAT!” Sansa moaned loudly as Jon went down on her. She gripped his curls, feeling every synapse in her body was going to explode, and she’d go to the heavens. What a wonderful way to go.

As she felt she was about to join the Old Gods, Jon was still tethering her down to her earth.

“You drive me fucking insane. I _love_ that about _you.”_ Jon moaned and Sansa could see the Old Gods greeting her.

The Seven Heavens were peaceful, full of bright light, and soft hands calming her down.

“ _Sansa.”_

_“Sansa.”_

_“Sansa.”_

_“Sansa.”_  She opened her eyes and Jon was running his fingers through her hair.

“You okay?”

“More than _okay._ I _haven’t_ felt this _good_ in... _a long time_.”

“Good, I’m glad I could be of _assistance_.”

“That was my favorite _compliment_ you’ve given me so far.”

“ _Oh._ I’m not done _yet_ . I still have _one more_.” He laughed and Sansa could feel it through his body touching hers.

He sat up and then lifted her into his lap. He looked so damn gorgeous, it hurt. He looked at her with soft eyes and face filled with sweetness. Sansa felt words rushing in her brain and heart as she leaned closer towards him. He needed a compliment from her. He needed to know she _saw him,_ as he _saw her._

Sansa opened her mouth to start speaking, but Jon’s last _compliment_ was faster.

“You’re so _beautiful_ on the _outside_ and _inside_. I’m sorry…...” His voice began to break and Sansa kissed him fiercely. They had never been this close before and yet she felt they weren’t close enough. She yanked him down on top of her and wrapped her legs around his waist. An endless amount of kisses and Sansa could see the Seven greeting her once again as she held on tightly to Jon for dear life.

Everything exploded in color and Jon gave her a long, sweet kiss before rolling off of her. She took his hand in hers and held it towards her chest. She looked over at him and he gave her a lopsided smile. She felt herself smile and sigh.

_Seven Hells. I love him. Shit._

* * *

Sansa looked up the ceiling of Jon’s room. There were small intricate patterns on it. She loved all unique individual designs. It felt like different stories being told at all once. A small infinity symbol, a circle, a square, an arrow, a cross, a triangle, a small heart, a _hand……._

Jon’s hand landed on her shoulder and she turned to look at him. He was looking at her with those big brown eyes and her heart sped up.

“What are you thinking about?”

“The small designs on your ceiling.” She sat up and tilted her chin above them.

“Really? Why?” He slowly rose up beside her.

“Yeah. I just...I love how it seems to be telling a story you know? Something out of the ordinary.” She smiled to herself.

“........I really think you’re amazing.” Jon whispered and Sansa placed her arms around his neck. There was still something eating at her core.

“Before I cut you off...erm earlier… What were you about to say?” Blue eyes locked into brown. Jon turned his body fully towards her, opening up himself to anything she’d ask of him.

“I’m sorry for calling you the Duff. I have no excuse -I was being a piece of shit. No one deserves to be called that. I didn’t know you as I know you now. You honestly have the most beautiful soul. You care so deeply for your family, friends, lonely Bartenders, classmates, and even random strangers. You have this beautiful mercy that I don’t think most people could even come close to. I could go on and on about you. You’re so physically beautiful it hurts. You need to know that, Sansa. Again, I’m sorry for making you feel that you weren’t.” Jon’s voice broke and Sansa rested her forehead against his.

“I forgive you.”She spoke softly.

“.....I don’t deserve your forgiveness Sansa…..”Jon shook his head.

“ _Oh_ but I still do forgive you.” She ran her fingers through his hair. He placed both of his hands on her cheeks.

“Thank you, Sansa.” He kissed her on the forehead and then kissed her on the lips.

She smiled against his lips.

“You’re the utmost welcome, Jon Snow.”

 _Yep, I love him. Seven hells._   
  


  
  
  



	12. The Story Never Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is named after Lauv's The Story Never Ends.
> 
> We're building up to something folks!

“How was your weekend Sansa?” Dany plopped beside Sansa’s desk.

_It was full of love and orgasms. Loads!!!!!_

“It was alright, I suppose.” Sansa shrugged, turning to look at Dany. Her usual joyful demeanor was gloomy. Concern entered her heart.

“What’s wrong Dany? Is everything alright?”

“I’m not going to prom.” Dany placed her face in her hands.

“What happened to the Satin plan?” Sansa asked and Dany sighed.

“I was planning to ask him and then I saw him….uh…..doing something….someone in a classroom.” She turned blood red and looked down at the desk’s drawn on top.

“What?!”

“He was behind Oberyn and you know….” Dany coughed awkwardly. She was so innocent.

“No need to say more. I’m sorry er…. sorry about the Satin situation.”

“It’s fine. You and Marge told me but I didn’t listen. Viserys is right, I’m so stupid. I need to get my brain evaluated.”

Fury filled Sansa.

“Listen to me, Dany. You’re not an idiot. Your older brother is shite and full of shit. You are such a wonderful, delightful, joyous best friend to have. You are filled with kindness, optimism, a cool sense of fashion, and so much more. I am so beyond thankful the Seven brought you in my life. You are smart in your own way. Don’t let anyone tell you that you aren’t!”

Sansa then felt Dany’s arms around her neck and tears pricking her skin.

“Sansa, you’re the sister I’ve always wanted. I love you!” Dany spoke, her voice sounding happy once more.

“Love you too.”

* * *

“I won’t need a ride today.” Marge sang as she placed her hair in a ponytail.

“Why is that?” Sansa switched out her books from her book-bag to her locker.

“I’m going on a date after practice.”

“This is a new development.” Sansa rose her eyebrows. Marge repeatedly stated throughout the year, she was done with the high school dating scene.

“I know. It was completely unexpected. But definitely not unwelcome.”  Marge smirked.

“Who is it?”

“Will you promise not to freak out?”

“I’ll try my best. What college does he go to?”

“He’s not in college.”

“Older man. Ooh, how scandalous!”

“Haha very funny. After my dalliance with Mr. Naharis, I’m sticking to my own age range thank you, next.”

“So he’s in high school?”

“Yes.” Marge began to pick at her nails. A habit she relied on when she got super nervous.

“Who is it?” Sansa implored.

“Robb.”

“Wait….my cousin Robb Tully?” Sansa’s jaw slightly opened.

“Yes.” Marge looked at her and Sansa closed her eyes.

“I thought you two hated each other.”

“We did. Last summer changed that.”

“Last……? Wait! Robb worked at the same camp you did last summer.”

“He did indeed. I ignored him for the first few days until I saw him shirtless at the lake. Seven Hells, what a bod! I jumped him the first chance I got. After that first time, Sansa- I couldn’t get enough of him! He’s so hot, kind, sexy, and…..everything.” Marge sighed softly.

Sansa felt torn. She was happy for Marge, she truly was. The other half felt a little sick. Imagining Marge, who was practically her sister with Robb, her cousin and who always felt like an older brother going at it like rabbits. It felt like incest happening before her eyes.

“Marge?”

“Are you happy?”

“Yes. Sansa, I think I’m in love with him.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you! He’s picking me up after practice and we’re going to see a movie. After that, who knows?” Marge wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and Sansa just smiled.

“Tell Robb I said Hi and use protection.”

“Oh, I will. Tell your man I said hello.”

_What?_

“Marge, please. I don’t have a man.” Sansa scoffed.

“Sansa, please. It’s written all over your face. You totally got sexed up real _good_ last night.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Have a wonderful time with Robb. ” Sansa began to walk away from her friend.

“Sansa, dear. I know the signs. You have a _good_ time as well.” Marge cackled.

_I need to practice my poker face and lying skills._

* * *

 

At some point, Sansa knew her Honda civic would be contrary. She just didn’t plan for it today.

“Shit! Damn! Seven Hells! Start, you piece of---”

“Having car problems, Sans?”

She turned mid-rant to see Jon standing outside of the car. She opened her door.

“My fucking car won’t turn on.” Sansa then turned to see the girl standing beside him.

Skinny. Petite. Big blue eyes. She was adorable yet had a fierceness about her. She was way prettier than Sansa.

_Just try not to get jealous-remember last night. He’s not your boyfriend and besides he doesn’t even….._

“Sans, this is my little sister Arya.” Jon smiled proudly at her.

_Oh._

“Hello, Arya. I’m Sansa, lovely to meet you!” Sansa smiled and Arya smiled shyly back.

A moment passed and then Jon ran a hand through his hair.

“Would you like me to give you a ride?”

“Urm…..I don’t want to inconvenience you both.” Sansa looked at both of them.

“You’re not an inconvenience, Sans. I promise.” Jon assured her, smiling softly. Out the corner of her eye, she could tell Arya was watching with interest at the both of them.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I just have to drop Arya at her friend’s house first.”

“Okay.” Sansa nodded and got into the car with the Snows.

* * *

 

Sansa enjoyed hearing the banter between Jon and Arya. Arya opened up ten minutes down the road and she was funny as hell. Sansa always dreamed of having a little sister when she was little.

_What a joy it could’ve been if Arya in another life was mine._

“I’m so excited to fence against Gendry, he’s not going to know what hit him!” Arya stated confidently and Jon chuckled. Sansa noticed the little bit of blush that appeared on Arya’s face every time she mentioned Gendry.

“However, I’m not excited to see his evil bitch of a stepmother again.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Jon groaned as he drove up a long driveway to the Baratheon residence. The mansion bigger than the Snow house and it screamed: “Look how much money my owners have!!!!”  Several cars were out in the front and plastic gold stags and lions covered the front lawn. To top it all off, the house had tacky red and black brick, and gold shingles. Sansa never thought she would see something uglier than the high school. But seven hells, she was wrong.

Jon parked and Arya began to unbuckle.

“It was nice meeting you, Sansa. I hope to see you again. I really like her, Jon!” Arya smiled, looking back at Sansa before getting out of the car.

“She is so sweet and what a riot! I was almost in stitches.” Sansa spoke softly as got out of the back seat and began to situate herself in the front seat.

“She’s the absolute best. I’m a lucky brother.” Jon smiled to himself.

Sansa’s eyes followed  Arya as she walked briskly towards a tall, lanky boy with a big grin on his face opening the front door. She didn’t even notice the click of heels hitting the sidewalk approaching Jon’s side of the car.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Jon huffed beside her and Sansa turned towards him.

“Jon? What’s wrong?.......”Sansa began as the woman bent slightly to be level with Jon’s window. She had long, wavy blonde hair and bright green eyes. Her makeup was flawless with a smirk tight on her face. She was well dressed in an expensive-looking red sweater embroidered with intricate gold designs with perfectly creased white slacks.

“Hi, Godmother. How are you?” Jon’s voice was full of fake politeness.

“Don’t play with me, you worthless bastard. I am furious with you at the moment.” Oddly to Sansa, the woman didn’t sound furious. Her voice was deep and eloquent. She sounded like the sweetest godmother ever, but her words didn’t fit the part.

“What did I do this time?” Jon asked tiredly. “Car isn’t clean enough? “My sister isn’t dressed up to the nines? What mild imperfection are you going to throw at me this afternoon?”

“I would suggest you refrain from using that tone with me,” Mrs. Baratheon said in the least intimidating voice imaginable. Jon looked miserable and Sansa ached to comfort him.

“Live your life how you like, but leave Arya out of it.”

“Arya? What did I do to Arya?”

“Honestly, Jon,” She scoffed.  “Why don’t you just let Arya take the bus? Or better yet, let my  Joffrey or my _stepson_ drive her here? I don’t approve of you driving her around with your--” she paused-- “ _whore_ of the week.” She looked across Jon, her eyes locking with Sansa’s for an instant before shifting back to him. “Your sister is mouthy, ill-mannered, and an imbecile as is. I’m trying my hardest to make her lady and her being around girls like _her_ and my _stepson,_  will just be a negative influence.”

Sansa was confused for a second. She was a straight-A student. She’d never been in any trouble in her life. Yet this woman thought she would somehow damage Arya.

And then it hit her.

Mrs. Baratheon thought she was one of Jon’s tramps. She thought Sansa was a slutty chick he screwed around with. Jon had told her his godmother disapproved of his “lifestyle.” She hated the way he slept around. And seeing Sansa in the front seat, she assumed Sansa was another floozy he’d picked up.

Sansa looked away, staring out of her window to avoid seeing the expression of disgust on the old woman’s face. She felt hurt and angry.

Mostly because she knew it was true.

“Go fuck yourself Cersei! I know good and well your _husband_ doesn’t. If he did, maybe you wouldn’t be such a cruel bitch!” Jon snapped. “You have no right to disrespect my friend, and it certainly isn’t your place to decide what I do with my sister. You should know me well enough to know that I wouldn’t do anything to harm her. I would sacrifice everything to make her happy.”

“I think Joffrey should drive Arya home from school after today.”

“Go ahead,” Jon growled. “But you won’t keep me away from her. She’s my sister, and Mom and Dad will have a fit if I tell them that you’re trying to break apart our family, Godmother.”

“I’m afraid your family is already broken, bastard.”

There was a buzz, indicating that Jon had rolled his window back up, and the engine revved. Sansa watched as Cersei walked back to her house. Then, with squealing tires. Jon backed out of the driveway and sped down the driveway onto the street. She glanced over at him, worried and unsure of what to say. Luckily, he spoke first.

“I’m sorry Sansa. I didn’t know she was coming outside. She shouldn’t have treated you that way.”

“It’s okay,” Sansa replied.

“No, it’s not. She’s a hussy”

“I gathered that much.”

“And the worst part is that she’s right.”

“About what?” Sansa looked at him.

“About our family,” he bit his lip. “She’s right. It is broken. It has been for a long time. Mom and Dad are always gone, and Cersei has been trying to come between Arya and me.”

“Arya still loves you.”

“Maybe,” Jon murmured. “But she’s starting to think less of me. Cersei has convinced her that I’m a no good bastard. I’ve seen how Arya looks at me sometimes. She looks at me like she’s disappointed. She must believe I’m a horrible person.”

“Arya might be disappointed that you’re not open with her about things. However, seeing the way she looks at _you,_ her big _brother-_ she adores and loves you. You’re her protector.”

“I try to my best to be.” The car was slowing down a little. “Honestly, you’re right about me not being fully honest with Arya. And Cersei is right too. I just never wanted Arya to see this side of me.”

Sansa couldn’t resist the urge to reach over to the gearshift and put her hand over Jon’s. His skin was warm and calloused, and she could feel his pulse throbbing steadily beneath her palm. She just wanted Jon to smile again. Even that cocky grin would’ve worked. SHe hated that he was so hurt by the possibility of losing Arya’s respect and love. She wanted to comfort him. She cared about him.

_I love him._

  


* * *

 


	13. Movement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is named after Movement by Hozier /what a man :) /
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter!!!!!

Twenty minutes later, the Mustang pulled into Sansa’s driveway. Sansa grabbed her stuff and reach for the door handle. “Thanks for the ride.” A glance over her back shoulder showed Sansa that Jon was still sulky.

_Well, hell! Why not?_

“You can come inside if you want. My dad isn’t home yet.”

Jon grinned at her as he cut the engine. “You’re a dirty minded girl, Sans. It would appear that you’re trying to corrupt me.”

“You’re way past corruption,” Sansa assured him.

They got out of the car and walked up the driveway together. Sansa dug the keys out of her purse and unlocked the front door, allowing Jon to walk inside ahead of her. Sansa watched his eyes move around the living room, and she couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. He must have been comparing the place to his almost-mansion. Obviously, there was no comparison.

“I like it,” Jon said. He looked back at her. “It’s cozy.”

“That’s nice for _small_ , isn’t it?”

“No. I’m serious. It’s comfortable. My house is too big, even for four people, and since I’m the only one in it most of the time… I like yours better. Cozy, like I said.”

“Thanks.” Sansa was flattered and felt herself blush a little. _Why am I acting like this?_

“Where’s your room?” Jon asked, winking at her.

“I knew that was coming. Now, who’s corrupting whom?” Sansa took him by the elbow and led him up the stairs. “Right here.” She gestured to the first door. “I warn you, it’s about the size of a Cracker Jack box.”

He opened the door and peered inside. Then he looked back at her with that familiar smirk. “We’ll have enough room.”

“Enough room for what?”Sansa laughed softly.

* * *

Before she knew what was happening, Jon had grabbed her by the hips and was pushing her into her bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind them, spun her around, and slammed her against the wall, where he began kissing Sansa so hard that she thought her head might pop off. She was surprised, but once that wore off, she joined in. She wrapped her arms around Jon’s neck and kissed him back. He tightened his grip on her waist and shoved up her skirt as high as it could go without unbuttoning. Then he slid his hands in her underwear and began rubbing his fingers inside her.

After a few minutes, he pulled his mouth away from hers.

“Sans, can I ask you something?”

“I’m not good at handjobs. I….was told I’m shite at it. I can get better though! I want _you_ to feel as _good_ as you’re making _me_ feel right _now_.” Sansa replied, her voice half filled with sadness and nervousness.

“I wouldn’t ask you to give me one unless you were absolutely one hundred percent comfortable with it. Viserys can burn for all I care. As for making me feel _good-_ ” Jon moved his fingers and Sansa let out a soft moan. “ _Hearing_ you make those sounds, feeling and seeing your body against mine, and seven hells  being near you in general- well…..I’m pretty sure right now you can feel _just how good_ I’m feeling right now.” Jon smiled and gave her a soft kiss. She kissed him back and things started to get heated again.

Jon removed his hands from her underwear, Sansa sighed sadly at the loss, and he placed them gently on her shoulders.

“What are you escaping now?”

“Excuse me?”

“I know your ex-boyfriend left town weeks ago,” Jon said. “But I can tell there is still something bothering you. As much as I’d want to believe it’s just _me--you_ can’t get enough of _me_ \-- I know there’s more to it. What are you running from, Sansa? Is everything going okay with your parents?”

“Nothing. They’re fine” Sansa lied.

“Don’t lie.”

_I bit the inside of my cheek, didn’t I?_

“Everything is alright, I promise. Okay?” Sansa pushed Jon away from her and yanked her skirt down where it belonged. Automatically, she knelt down by the pile of clean clothes at the foot of her bed and started folding them. “Let’s just talk about something else.”

 Jon sat down beside her. “Fine,” he said. Sansa could tell he was using that I’ll-be-patient-until-you-decide-tell-me-voice. The one used with little kids. Too bad for him. That would never happen. He was just her…. _sex partner?_ after all, not her psychiatrist or _boyfriend._

_But oh how badly I deeply want it to be true._

* * *

They talked about school while Sansa folded her clothes. When they were all in neat stacks, she stood up and moved to sit on her bed.

“Aren’t you going to put them away?” Jon asked.

“No,” Sansa said.

“Then what was the point in folding them?”

She sighed and stretched out on her back, kicking off her TOMS. “I don’t know,” Sansa admitted, resting her head on the pillow and staring at the ceiling. “I guess it’s a habit or whatever. I fold the clothes every night, and it makes me feel better. It’s relaxing and it clears my head. Then the next morning, I dig through the stacks for what I’m gonna wear, and they all get messed up, so I get to fold them again that night. Like a cycle.”

Her bed creaked as Jon climbed on top of her, wedging himself between her knees. “You know,” he said, looking down at her. “That’s pretty strange. Neurotic, really.”

“Me?” Sansa laughed. “You’re the one who’s trying to get in my skirt again, like, after ten seconds of a failed attempt at a heart-to-heart. I’d say _we’re_ both pretty fucked up.”

“Very true.”

They started kissing again. This time Jon’s hands moved up her shirt and unhooked her bra. There wasn’t much room in her little twin bed, but Jon still managed to get her naked in record time.

Sansa undid his pants and then slid her right hand on his bulge as her left hand dragged down his boxers. His eyebrows knit together in confusion and his lips pouted out. She began to move her hand up and down on him. Jon let out a soft moan.

“Sans….what...what...are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m _doing_?” She let a giggle and then turned up the speed.

“Seven Hells…... _Sansa._ You’re killing me…..., _”_ Jon threw his head back and he’d honestly never been hotter. His beautiful brown eyes were now black and his whole body glistening with sweat. Sansa felt proud.

“You sound pretty alive to me.” Sansa stuck her tongue out as Jon released a long moan.

_I did that. I, Sansa Stark, made Jon Snow feel good. How about those apples!_

Then she felt her back against the sheets.

“We’ll see how alive you’ll sound in a couple of seconds.” Jon chuckled and then began giving her soft kisses on her neck and breasts.

“Jon…...” Sansa sighed as he kissed down her stomach.

“That was……..damn. I wish I could go into more detail. But right now I’m desperate to return the favor.” Jon smiled and dove right in.

Sansa grabbed onto his curls and moaned softly.

“ _Ooooh ….._ ”

“Oh, Shit! I missed the damn hole again. These keys are awful!”

Jon slowly lifted his head to look up at her and Sansa bit her lip.

Dad was home and struggling to open the front door.

_Great just great._

Sansa slid off the bed, quickly finding hers and Jon’s clothes. It took a second to find her underwear. Once she was completely dressed, she brushed her hair and did her best to not look like a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar.

“Should I leave?” Jon asked.

“No,” Sansa said breathlessly. She could tell he didn’t want to go back to the empty almost-mansion. “Stay a little while. It’s fine. Dad won’t care,”-as if on cue Dad cursed again trying to unlock the front door. “We just can’t do _that_.”

“What else is there to do?”

So, like complete nerds, Sansa and Jon played Scrabble for the next four and a half hours. There was barely enough space in the floor of her tiny room for both them being as tall as they were. But they managed to make it work, with the board between them as they spelled out words like  _ quixotic  _ and  _ hegemony _ . Not the most exciting Friday night, but Sansa enjoyed it way more than she would have if she’d gone to the Dragon Pit or a college party.

Around nine, after Sansa had kicked Jon’s ass three times--finally something she could beat him at!---Jon got to his feet. “I guess I should go home,” he sighed.

“Okay.” Sansa stood up. “I’ll walk you downstairs.”

She had been in such a good mood that she’d managed to forget all about Dad… until she and Jon ran into him in the living room. She smelled the whiskey before she saw the bottle on the coffee table, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. 

_ Please don’t notice. _

She walked Jon toward the front door. She then realized she should’ve started worrying when he hadn’t checked upstairs to see whose Mustang was in their driveway. It wasn’t like a shiny Mustang in front of their house was a common occurrence. Maybe Jon hadn’t thought of that either. It was Friday night, after all. Dads could drink whiskey on the weekends...well, ones that weren’t recovering alcoholics, but Jon didn’t know that side of the story. As long as her father acted normal, this might slide by as nothing out of the ordinary.

But of course, Sansa never had that kind of good luck.

“Ladywolf!” Dad said, and Sansa could tell he was already smashed.

_ Great. Just fucking fantastic.  _

He stumbled to his feet and looked over at the front door, where Jon and she stood. “Hey, Ladywolf. I didn’t even know you were home. Who’s this?” His eyes narrowed at Jon. “A boy?”

“Um, Dad, this is Jon Snow,” Sansa spoke, trying to remain calm. “He’s a friend of mine.”

“A ‘friend.’...I bet.” He grabbed the whiskey bottle before taking a few unsteady steps toward them, his eyes squinting at Jon. “Did you have fun up in my little girl’s bedroom, boy?”

“I sure did,” Jon said, clearly trying to sound like one of those innocent oh-gee-whiz boys from fifties TV shows. “We played three games of Scrabble. Your daughter is really good with words, sir.”   
“Scrabble? I’m not an idiot. That must be some new code for.. for oral sex!” Dad snarled.

Sansa was burning inside. How did Dad know? Could he see in her mind? No, of course, he couldn’t. He was just drunk and making accusations, and looking guilty would only make things worse. So she laughed as if it were ridiculous. As if it were a joke. Jon, following her lead, did the same.

“Sure, Dad,” she spoke. “And intercourse is Monopoly, right?”

“I’m not being funny!” Dad snapped, swinging his bottle and sloshing whiskey onto the carpet. 

_ Wonderful. I’ll be the one cleaning that up. _

“I know what’s up. I’ve seen the way your slutty friends dress, Sansa. They’re rubbing off on you, aren’t they?”

Sansa couldn’t force the laughter any longer. “Marge, Dany, and Missandei aren’t slutty,” she whispered. “You're drunk off of your ass, and you don’t know what you’re saying.” With a surge of bravery, she reached forward and swiped the bottle from his hand. “You shouldn’t have anymore, Dad.”

For a second, Sansa felt good. That’s what she should’ve done all along. Just take things into her own hands and remove the bottle. She felt empowered. Like she could fix things.

“I should go,” Jon said hesitantly behind her.

Sansa started to turn around and say bye, but the words never left her mouth. She felt the bottle slip from her hand and heard it smash on the floor beside her. She was knocked to the ground, but for a second she didn’t understand what had happened. Then the delayed pain in her temple stunned her. It was like she’d been hit by something. Something hard. Something blunt. Something like the palm of her father’s hand. She reached up and rubbed her head in shock, barely feeling the actual pain.

“See!” Dad yelled. “Boys don’t stay with whores, Sansa. They leave them. And I’m not going to let you turn into a whore. Not my daughter. This is for your own good.”

Sansa looked up as he reached a hand to grab her arm. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting to feel his fingers clamp around her forearm.

But they never did.

She heard a loud thud, and Dad groaned in pain. Her eyes flew open. Jon moved away from Dad, who was massaging his jaw with a shocked look on his face. “Why, you little shithead!”

“Are you all right?” Jon asked, kneeling in front of her.

“Did you just punch my dad?” Sansa couldn’t help but wonder if she was delirious. Had all of this really happened? Totally bizarre.

“Yes,” Jon admitted.

“How dare you touch me!” Dad screamed, but he was having trouble balancing enough to approach them again. “How dare you fuck my daughter, then hit me, you son of a bitch!”

Sansa had never heard her father swear like that before.

“Come on,” Jon said, helping her to her feet. “We’re getting out of here. You’re coming with me.” He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close against his warm body, and ushered her out of the open door.

“Sansa!” Dad yelled behind them. “You better not get in that damn car! You better not leave this house! You hear me, you little whore!”

* * *

The ride to Jon’s house was silent. Several times Sansa saw him open his mouth like he wanted to say something, but then he would shut it again. She was in too much shock to say anything. Her head didn’t hurt that much. She just couldn’t wrap her head around what Dad had done. But worse was the embarrassment. 

_ Why? Why did Jon have to see that? What does he think of me now? What does he think of Dad? _

“That never happened before,” Sansa mumbled, breaking the silence when they pulled into the driveway of the almost-mansion. Jon cut the engine and looked at her. “Dad’s never hit me...or even yelled at me like that before.”

“All right.”

“I just want you to know that wasn’t normal for us,” she explained. “I don’t live in an abusive house or anything. I don’t want you to think my dad is some kind of psychopath.”

“I was under the impression that you didn’t care what people thought,” he spoke.

“About me. I don’t care what they think  _ about me. _ ” Sansa didn’t know that was a lie until the words left her mouth. “But my family and friends are different….My dad isn’t a psychopath. He’s just having a rough time right now.” She could feel the lump rising in her throat, and she tried to gulp it down. She needed to explain. He needed to know. “I lied about my parents and their separation. My Dad….he just can’t handle it.”

The lump didn’t go away. It just kept growing. All of Sansa’s worries and fears had been leading up to this moment, and she couldn’t fight them anymore. She couldn’t keep them bottled up. Tears started gushing down her cheeks, and before she knew it she was sobbing.

How did this happen? It was a nightmare. Her father was the sweetest, nicest man she knew. He was naive and fragile. This wasn’t him. Even though she’d heard his reasons for sobriety before--even though she knew, in the back of her head, that his drinking was dangerous--it still didn’t seem real. It didn’t seem possible.

Sansa felt her world was finally spinning out of control. And this time, she couldn’t deny it. She couldn’t ignore it. And she definitely couldn’t escape it.

Jon didn’t say anything. He just sat with her in silence. She didn’t even realize he was holding her hand until the tears had stopped. Once she caught her breath and wiped away the few salty drops from her eyes, he opened his door and walked around to open hers.  He helped her out of the car and placed in his arms. She could hear his heartbeat, nice and steady. Jon carried her to the front porch and unlocked the door. Once they got inside the house, he offered to get her a glass of water but Sansa shook her head. Then per the usual, they made way towards his room.

“You can let me down now. I’ll be fine, I promise. I know I’m quite heavy.” Sansa sniffled before he started up the first step.

“You’re weightless Sansa. I’m not letting you go.” Jon whispered as he went upstairs to his room.

* * *

 

Sansa sat on the bed, Jon sat down next to her. He wasn’t looking at her, but he seemed to be deep in thought. She couldn’t help but wonder what horrible things were on his mind. She didn’t ask. She didn’t want to know.

“Are you all right?” he asked, turning to face her finally. “Do you need an ice pack or anything?”

“No,” she said. Her throat was sore from crying, and her words came out kind of croaky. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

He reached over and brushed the hair away from her face, and his fingers barely grazing her temple. “Well,” he said quietly. “At least now I know.”

“Know what?”

“What you’re trying to escape from.”

She didn’t respond.

“Why didn’t you tell me that your father has a drinking problem?” he asked.

“Because it’s not my place to tell,” Sansa said. “And it’ll pass. He’s just going through a hard time right now. He hasn’t had a drink in eighteen years. Just since the separation papers came in….He’ll get better.”

“You should talk to him. When he’s sober, you should tell him that it’s getting out of hand.”

“Yeah,” Sansa scoffed. “And make him think I’m against, too? When my mom has just handed him separation papers?”

“You’re not against him, Sansa.”

“Tell me, Jon, why don’t you talk to  _ your  _ parents?” she asked. “Why don’t you tell them you’re lonely? That you want them to come home? It’s because you don’t want to upset them, right? You don’t want to blame you for their misery? If I tell Dad he has a problem, he’ll think I hate him. How can I hurt him more? He just lost everything.”

Jon shook his head. “Not everything. He didn’t lose  _ you, _ ” he said. “At least not yet. If you don’t talk to him, he’ll just end up driving you away, and then he will be in far worse pain.”

“Maybe.”

Jon’s fingers continued to rub soothingly against her temple. “This doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“Not at all.” She sighed and leaned into his hand. “The things he said hurt way more,” she murmured. She bit her lower lip. “You know,” Sansa looked away from Jon, “I’ve never been called a whore in my life, and today two different people have implied that I am. What’s funny is, I’m pretty sure they’re right.”

“That’s not funny,” Jon muttered. “You’re not a whore, Sansa.”

“Then, what am I?” Sansa demanded, suddenly filled with anger. She pushed his hand away from her head and stood up. “What am I? I’m screwing a guy who isn’t my boyfriend and lying about it to my friends. I don’t even think about it now, whether this is right or wrong! I’m a whore. Your godmother and my dad both think so, and they’re right.”

Jon stood up, his face hard and serious. He grabbed her by the shoulders and held her firmly, forcing her to look up at him.

“Listen to me,” he said. “You are  _ not  _ a whore. Are you listening, Sansa? What you are is an _ intelligent, sassy, sarcastic, cynical, neurotic, compassionate, beautiful girl _ . That’s what you are, okay? You’re not a slut or a whore or anything remotely similar. Just because you have some secrets and some screwups...You’re just confused...like the rest of _ us _ .”

She stared at him, stunned. Was he right? Was the rest of the world just as lost as she was? Did everyone have their secrets and screwups? They must. She knew Jon was just as messed up as she was, so surely the rest of the world had its imperfections, too.

“Sansa,  _ whore  _ is just a cheap word people use to cut each other down,” Jon said, his voice softer. “It makes them feel better about their own mistakes. Using words like that is easier than really looking into the situation. I promise you, you’re not a whore.”

She looked at him, into his warm brown eyes, and suddenly understood what he was trying to tell her. The message hidden beneath the words.

_ You’re not alone. _

Because he understood. He understood how it felt to be abandoned. He understood the insults. Understood  _ her. _

She pushed herself onto her tiptoes and kissed him--really kissed him. It was more than just a precursor to sex. There was no war between their mouths. Her hips rested lightly beneath his, not pressed tightly. Their lips moved in soft, perfect harmony. His hands stroked gently through her hair, his thumb grazing her cheek--still damp from crying earlier. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.

She slid off his shirt, and he pulled hers over her head. Then he laid her down on the bed. No rush. This time things were slow and earnest. This time she wasn’t looking for an escape. This time was about them both. About honesty and compassion and so much more she’d never expected to in Jon Snow.

Their bodies connected and she never felt so complete in her life. Afterward, he gave a  long kiss and smiled down at her as he rolled off of her.

In the middle of the night, almost close to sleep, she heard Jon mumble beside her.

“ _ I love you, Sansa.” _

She felt her heart stop for a small second. With a small surge of courage, she mouthed towards his direction after she was sure he went back to sleep.

_ “I love you too, Jon.” _

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

 


	14. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You asked for the drama and I brought it.
> 
> Sorry :') / :'(
> 
>  
> 
> The chapter is named after Lauv's song Breathe

Sansa knew something was wrong the instant she opened her eyes the next morning.

The sky looked dull and cold outside Jon’s window, but she felt warm. So warm. Jon’s arm was draped over her, holding her against his chest, and his soft, rhythmic breathing heated the back of her neck. It was so peaceful. So perfect. She felt safe and content.

And that was the problem.

She remembered a dream study she watched that said often people mumbled things in their sleep they didn’t really mean. He couldn’t have meant it. Not really. He was Jon Snow. She was Sansa Stark. They were from two vastly different worlds. She’d never fit into his world of mansions, nice cars, and designer clothes.

She had no place here and she was a fool to think so.

Why did she have to fall in love with him? Love took years to develop….Right? Jon Snow had been in her life for just a few short months and she loved him so much.

It was powerful.

It was real.

It was terrifying.

She had to get out of there. She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t let herself fall into this trap. No matter how she felt about Jon, he would never feel the same. There was no way in seven hells Sansa was going to torture herself that way. She’d learn her lesson with Viserys. From watching her friends and her own parents’ relationships. Getting too close just led to getting hurt, and Jon had plenty to hurt her with. Last night, he’d seen her at her weakest. She had let him in. She opened up. And if she didn’t leave now, she would have to pay the price.

_ No matter where you go or what you do to distract yourself, reality catches up with you eventually.  _ Mom had said that about herself and Dad.

A bitter smile spread across Sansa’s face as she reluctantly crawled out of Jon’s arms. Mom had been right. Jon was her distraction. He was supposed to be her escape from emotions. From all the drama. And here she was…. Feeling nothing  _ but  _ emotions.

Sansa crept around the room, trying to get dressed without making any noise. After yanking on her shirt and skirt, she grabbed her cell phone and slipped out onto the balcony.

Sansa dialed Marge’s number. Oh, how Marge would be in for a shock.

“Hello!” Marge cheerily greeted her after two rings.

_ Damn. I can’t believe this is the way Marge is going to find out. She sounds so happy! Maybe I should hang up…… _

“Hello? Sansa?”

“Hi, Marge, I’m sorry to disturb your morning, but can you do me a big favor? Please.”

“Sansa, are you okay?” Marge’s voice was full of concern. “What’s up? What’s wrong?”

“Can you get Robb’s keys and come pick me up? I really need a ride home.”

“Home?” Marge now sounded confused. “You mean you aren’t at home? You didn’t stay at your place last night?”

“Marge, I promise I’m fine. I didn't stay there last night….” Sansa’s voice broke.

“Where are you?”

“......I’m at Jon’s….You know the giant house on--”

“ _ Oh. Yeah,”  _ Marge hummed. “Jon Snow’s place? I know where it is.” Marge was curious, but she tried to hide it behind her concern. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Sansa turned the phone to black and shoved it in her skirt pocket.

Ten minutes. Just ten short minutes.

She sighed and leaned against the railing of the balcony. From here, boring-ass King’s Landing looked like a creepy ghost town. The streets were empty this early in the morning, and all the little gray-roofed shops were closed. The image wasn’t helped by the dull, sunless sky that left everything under a layer of gloom.

Sunless gloom. Haha.

“You may not be aware of this, but humans tend to sleep in on Saturdays.

Sansa turned around and found Jon standing at the balcony entrance, rubbing his eyes sleepily with a little smile on his face. Despite the chilly wind, he was wearing nothing but his black boxers. 

_ Damn, he has such an amazing body. I just want to lead him back in his room and….. I can’t think of this right now! I need to end this. _

“We need to talk.” Sansa tried to find something to look at besides his hot, half-naked body. Her feet seemed like her best option.

“Hmm,” Jon mused, running a hand through his messy curls. “You know, my father says those are the four most frightening words a woman can say. He claims that nothing good ever begins with ‘We need to talk.’ You’re worrying me a little here, Sans.”

“We should go inside.”

“That’s not promising.”

She followed him into his bedroom, wringing her hands uncontrollably. (Sweaty palms are  _ so  _ attractive) He flopped onto his bed and waited for her to do the same, but she remained standing. She couldn’t risk sitting there, she was too weak. She’d get comfortable and by the time Marge would be arriving, she would be under or on top of Jon. 

She just had to make it these eight and a half minutes. She was counting. 

_ Just make it short and sweet Sans. Or just short. Nothing about this feels sweet. _

Anxiously, Sansa reached up and scratched the back of her neck. “Listen,” she spoke. “You’re a great guy, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

_ Why is this sounding like a breakup? Don’t you have to actually date someone to dump them? _

“Really?” Jon asked. “Since when? You’ve never referred to me as anything better than a nice ass sex toy. I knew I’d grow on you eventually...but something tells me I should be suspicious.”

“But,” she went on, ignoring him as best as she could. “I can’t do this anymore. I think we should stop, um, sleeping together.”

_ Yep. Definitely sounds breakup-ish to me. All I need to do is throw an “It’s not you; it’s me,” and it will be perfect. _

“Why?” He didn’t sound hurt. Just surprised.

It hurt Sansa that he didn’t sound hurt.

“Because this isn’t working for me anymore,” she spoke, sticking with traditional lines she’d heard in movies. They were classics for a reason, after all. “I don’t think this”-Sansa gestured between them- “is in my, uh... _ either of our  _ best interests.”

Jon narrowed his eyes at her. “Sansa, does this have something to do with what happened last night?” he asked seriously. “If so, I want you to know that you don’t have to worry about--”   
“That’s not it.”

“What, then? You’re not making sense.”

Sansa stared at her shoes. The rubber edges were starting to peel, but the bright red fabric of the TOMS hadn’t faded at all.  _ Bright red.  _ “I’m like Hester,” she whispered, more to herself than to Jon.

“What?”

Sansa looked up at him, surprised he’d heard her. “I’m like…” She shook her head. “Nothing. We’re done. I’m done.”

“Sansa-”

Two quick honks from the driveway saved her.

“I--I have to go.”

Sansa was so focused on getting the hell out of that house that she didn’t hear the words Jon yelled after her. His voice simply faded into the distance, where she hoped to leave him forever.

* * *

Marge revved the engine as Sansa climbed into Robb’s pickup truck. It smelled woodsy just like Robb himself.

Marge drummed her fingers on the wheel while Sansa pulled on her seatbelt. Marge had Nike shorts, flip flops, and Robb’s hoodie on, with no makeup on and she still looked like a supermodel.

“Hi,” Sansa spoke.

Marge looked over at her. Her eyes swept across Sansa’s face--already searching for telltale signs of trouble--and then she slowly smirked.

After a short staring contest, she turned away and put the truck into drive, struggling a little with the stick shift. “Okay,” she said as they pulled of the driveway. “Spill. Do not leave out a single detail. Start with why I just picked you up at Jon’s house.”

“Because I stayed  the night.”

“Wow. I had no idea.” Marge scoffed and Sansa narrowed her eyes.

Marge eventually sighed and the truck slowed down a little. “Sansa, I’m confused. I thought you hated Jon Snow. And I mean  _ hated. _ ”

“I did,” Sansa replied. “Now….”

“Now? Sansa, just be honest with me. I know something has been going on over the last few months. You can tell me anything. I promise. You’re my sister and I know you’ve held back a lot.  You don’t need to carry that burden by yourself. Dany, Missandei, and I all love you. We are here for you, no matter what.”

Sansa felt tears streaming down her eyes. She had been such a horrible friend. She could’ve gone to them this whole time. They wouldn’t have judged her. Marge patted her shoulder in reassurance and Sansa wiped her tears up with her sleeve.

“Jon and I have been sleeping together.”

“For how long?”

“For the last few months.”

Marge was quiet for a moment. Then, after it sank in, she asked, “If you hated him at first, why did you sleep with him in the first place?”  
“It was for distraction. I feel I could let go of all the stress and trouble at home, every time we had sex.”

“What’s been going on at home?”

“My parents are separating and my dad….. He’s been drinking.”

“Oh, Seven hells.” Marge knew about Dad’s alcoholism and how he had been sober for a while.

“That’s why I couldn’t stay last night. Dad…. he drank too much and he slapped me.”

“Sansa, gods! Why didn’t you call me? Robb and I could’ve picked you up!”

“Jon was there and he punched my dad.”

“He punched your dad?!”

“Yeah. It was quite a shock.”

Marge was quiet for a moment and then spoke up again.

“Jon saw everything last night….. Is that why you left this morning?”

“No. He even told me I didn’t have to worry about it. That it was safe with him.”

“Then why…..”

“Everything has become so damn complicated now.”

“Oh. My. Gods. Are you pregnant?!” Marge gasped.

Sansa gritted her teeth and turned to face her. “No, Marge. I’m not fucking pregnant.” 

_ Is she serious???? _

“Seven hells, I’m smart enough to use a condom, and I’ve had an IUD since the beginning of this year! You were there, remember?!”

“Okay, okay,” Marge took a deep breath. “You’re not pregnant...thank the Seven. But if that’s not the problem, why do things suck worse?”

“I don’t hate Jon.”

“Well, duh, you are screwing him. He’s giving you really good sex. I can tell the signs.” She rose her eyebrows suggestively.

“No, I mean…” Sansa shook her head and turned to look out the window. The small houses of King’s Landing sped past them, simple and clean. She would’ve killed to be simple and clean like them. Instead, she felt complicated, dirty, and tainted. “I mean yes the sex is amazing.” She explained. “He annoys the hell out of me ninety -six percent of the time, and sometimes I’d like to strangle him to death. But at the same time I….I want him to be happy. I think about him way more than I should, and I--”

“You love him,” Marge spoke softly and as much as Sansa wanted to deny it, she couldn’t.

“Yeah, I do. Very much.”

Marge glanced at her before turning to the road, smirking.

“I knew it. I mean all the jokes I made about it were just teasing, but I knew something would happen after you kissed him.”

“Shut up,” Sansa muttered. “This sucks.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is it a bad thing? You love him. Isn’t that supposed to be great and exciting and give you butterflies in your tummy or something?”

“No,” Sansa replied. “It’s not great or exciting. It’s terrible. It’s excruciating.”

“But why?”

“Because he’ll never love me back!”

_ Seven hells, isn’t it obvious? _

“He’ll never care about me that way, Marge. I’m wasting my time even thinking that it’s possible.”

“Why won’t he love you back?”

“Stop.”

“No, I’m being serious, Sansa,” Marge pushed. “I’m pretty sure you’re not a three-eyed raven, so I don’t see how you know that he won’t ever love you. Why wouldn’t he?”

“He called me a DUFF when we first met….”

“Sorry, what the fuck is a DUFF?”

“Designated Ugly Fat Friend. I’m the ugly friend in the group. But then he….. ”

“You’re not the ugly one in the group.”

“Marge, please.”

“You’re tall with flawless skin, hair that’s always perfect, and I would kill to have your eyes!”

“But Marge…. You, Dany, and Missandei are much prettier than I am.”

“That’s some shite and you know it.”

“No, I’m being honest.”

“Sansa, hon, you’re beautiful. Embrace it. You’re a stunner. Fuck Jon and his stupid word.”

“Actually…”

“Are you defending him?”

“Yes…”

“Why?!”  
“I was going to say earlier he apologized on Thursday for calling me it in the first place. He said he was being a piece of shit. He hasn’t called me that in two and a half months. He’s actually called me…….”

“Called you what?”

“Beautiful….but that was in the heat of the moment.”  
Marge blinked and then turned to look at Sansa.

“Sansa?”

“Yes?”

“Did Viserys ever apologize for being an ass to you?”

“No. He never did.”

“Jon apologized for being an ass to you.”

“A lot of guys do that.”

“Theon still hasn’t apologized for Kraken breaker. Joffrey…. He’s his mother’s son, so no need to go about that. Mr. Naharis didn’t apologize for dragging my name through the mud.” Marge put the truck in park. “But Robb apologized last summer for making the wrong assumptions about me. He apologized for calling me an uptight, rich bitch. Hell, he even apologized for calling me alien eyes. Most men don’t apologize in this world for the things they do.  But the ones that genuinely apologize and take responsibility for their actions, show growth, and have a pure heart ultimately- they are in rare form.”

“I...I’m at a loss for words Marge.”

“Oh, sweet Sansa. You’ll know what to do. Dany, Missandei, and I all believe in and support you. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. Now let’s go and get some breakfast.”

* * *

 

Marge dropped her off and Sansa stood on her front porch before realizing she didn’t have her keys. Jon had pulled her from the house so quickly the night before that she hadn’t been able to grab her purse. So she found herself knocking on her own front door, hoping Dad was awake to let her in.

Fearing, dreading, remembering.

Sansa took a step back as the knob turned and the door swung open. There stood Dad, his eyes red and deeply circled behind his glasses. He looked really pale like he’d been sick, and she could see his hand shaking on the doorknob. “Sansa.”

He didn’t smell like whiskey.

Sansa let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Hi, Dad. I, um, left my keys inside last night, so…”

He moved slowly forward like he was afraid she might run away. Then he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her into his chest, and buried his face in her hair. They stood there together for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, she could tell the words came through sobs. “I’m so, so, so sorry.”

“I know,” Sansa murmured into his shirt.

And she was crying too.

* * *

 

Dad and Sansa talked more that day than they had in seventeen years. Not that they weren’t close before. It was just both of them were not expressive. They didn’t share their thoughts or feelings or do any of that stuff they tell one is important on those PSAs. When they ate dinner, they were always in front of the TV, and there was no way either of them would interrupt the program with lame small talk. That’s just how they were.

But that day they talked.

They talked about his work.

They talked about her grades.

They talked about Mom.

“She’s not coming back for a while, is she?” Dad took off his glasses and rubbed his face.

“No, Daddy,” Sansa bravely reached out to squeeze his hand. “She’s not. Right now, this isn’t the right place for her to be.”

He nodded. “I know. I’ve known for a long time that she wasn’t happy...maybe even before she knew. I just hoped--”

“That she’ll change her mind?” Sansa offered. “I think she wanted to when she kept leaving and coming back. Eventually, she had to face the truth and admit she wanted a” she paused at the next word--”separation.”

“Well,” Dad sighed, squeezing her hand back. “I guess we were both running away in different ways.”

“What do you mean?”

Dad shook his head. “Your mother went to the Riverlands. I took a whiskey bottle.” He reached up and readjusted his glasses, an unconscious habit--he always did it when he was making a point. “I was so devastated by what your mother did to me that I forgot how horrible drinking is. I forgot to look on the bright side.”

“Dad,” Sansa said, “I don’t think there is a bright side to separation. It’s a pretty sucky thing all around.”

He nodded. “Maybe that’s true, but there are a lot of bright sides to my life. I have a job I like, a nice house in a good neighborhood, and a wonderful daughter.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Oh God,” she muttered. “Don’t go all Hallmark movie on me. Seriously.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, smiling. “But I mean it. A lot of people would kill for my life, but I didn’t even consider that. I took it --and you--for granted. I’m so, so sorry for that, Ladywolf.”

Sansa wanted to look away when I saw the tears glistening at the corners of his eyes, but she forced herself to focus only on him. She’d been turning away from the truth for too long.

He apologized multiple times for everything that happened over the last few months. He promised her he’d start going to weekly Alcoholics Anonymous meetings again, to go back on the wagon, to call his sponsor again. And then they poured every single bottle of whiskey and beer down the drain together, both of them eager for a clean slate.

“Is your head all right?” Dad asked her about a million times that day.

“It’s fine,” She kept telling him.

He always shook his head and murmured more apologies for slapping her. For saying what he had. Then he’d hug her.

Around midnight, Sansa joined Dad in his nightly ritual turning out the lights. “Ladywolf,” he said as the kitchen went dark. “I want you to thank your friend next time you see him.”

“My friend?”

“Yeah. The boy who was with you last night. What’s his name?”

“Jon,” Sansa muttered.

“Right,” Dad responded. “Well, I deserved it. He was brave to do what he did. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but I’m glad you have a friend who’s willing to stand up for you. So please tell him I said thanks.”

“Sure.” She turned and walked up the stairs to her bedroom, praying that it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

“But, Sansa?” He winced and rubbed his jaw. “Next time tell him he should feel free to write a strongly worded letter first. Hell of an arm on that kid.”

Sansa smiled in spite of herself. “There won’t be the next time,” she said to him, taking the last few steps and heading to her bedroom.

Both her parent were facing reality, giving up their distractions. Now it was her turn, and that meat quitting Jon. Unfortunately, there were no weekly meetings, no sponsors, no twelve-step programs for what she was addicted to.

_ Why did I have to fall in love with him? _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 


	15. Bracelet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is named after Lauv's Bracelet
> 
> Highly recommend him! Lauv aka Ari Leff has a playlist on Spotify I Met You When I Was 18. 
> 
> PS. Just a reminder blond Cole Sprouse is the Dickon in this story. Aka Cody from the Suite Life shows.
> 
> Update: I made an edit. Something weird happened with transferring over the story!

Sansa was pretty sure Jon wouldn’t approach her at school. Why would he? It wasn’t like he’d miss her….even if she really, desperately wanted him to. He wasn’t losing anything.  He had plenty of girls willing to fill that loss Sansa left in his schedule. So there was no need for an avoidance plan on Monday morning.

Except that she didn’t even want to _see_ him. If she had to look at him day after day, Sansa could never hope to forget about him. She could never hope to move on. For this situation, she did need a plan, and she had one all lined up.

  1. Keep distracted in the hallway in case he passed her.
  2. Stay busy in English and never look over at his side of the classroom.
  3. Speed out of the parking lot in the afternoon so she didn’t run into him.
  4. Stop having sex and love dreams about him.



Dad made step three possible by fixing her car on Sunday, so she was sure she could keep from seeing Jon. In a matter of weeks, she’d be able to put their relationship-or lack thereof-out of her mind. If not, they’d graduate in May and she could avoid him at Winterfell University.

That was the theory, anyway.

But by the time the final bell rang on Monday, Sansa knew her plan sucked ass. Not looking at Jon didn’t necessarily equal not thinking of Jon. In fact, she spent most of her day thinking about not looking at him. Then she just thought about all the reasons she shouldn’t be thinking of him. It never freaking ended! Nothing seemed to distract her.

Until Tuesday afternoon.

Sansa was on her way to lunch after an unbearably long AP government class when something happened that gave her just the distraction she needed. Something unbelievable and shocking. Something pretty damn awesome.

Dickon fell in step with her in the hallway. “Hey,” he spoke.

“Hi.” Sansa did her best to sound at least halfway pleasant. “What’s up?”

Dickon grinned and looked down, shuffling his feet. “Not much,” he said. “Just trying to decide what to write for the editorial assignment. Mr. Lannister-Tarth wasn’t very specific. What are you going to write yours about?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I’m thinking of doing it on Wildling Immigration.”

“Supporting or opposing?”

“Oh, definitely supporting. I mean, the government should have grace and kindness for those fleeing from the White Walker regime.”

“How compassionate of you,” Dickon responded.

Sansa snorted. “Hardly. I struggle with compassion at times. I just….I place myself in their shoes and I fully understand wanting a better life instead of staying in a deadly place.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Dickon agree. “It seems we have a lot in common.”

“I guess we do.”

They walked for a couple of seconds in silence before he asked, “So, do you have any plans for prom?”

“I’m not going. Why pay two hundred bucks for a dress, thirty for a ticket, forty for hair and makeup, and a handful more for dinner, where all you can have is a salad with no dressing because you have to avoid getting gunk on the poufy dress? It’s kind of ridiculous.”

“I see,” Dickon said. “That’s a little unfortunate….I was kind of hoping you’d go with me.”

Okay, so Sansa hadn’t seen that coming. At all. _Ever._ Dickon Tarly, the boy she’d crushed on for years, wanted to ask her to prom?

_Oh, seven hells. Oh, seven hells._

And she’d totally bashed the whole institution of high school dances like an opinionated idiot. She’d practically rejected him without meaning to.

_Oh shit. I am a moron. A complete moron._

And now Sansa was at a loss for words. What should she say? Did she apologize or take it back or--

“But it’s fine if you feel that way,” Dickon said. “I’ve always thought prom was the pointless rite of passage, so we’re on the same page.”

“Uh, yeah,” she said lamely.

_Oh, someone fucking shoot me right now!_

“But,” Dickon pressed, “are you opposed to regular dates? Ones without poufy dresses or crappy salads?”

“No. I don’t have a problem with those.”

Her head was spinning. Dickon wanted her to go on a date with him. A date! She hadn’t been on a real date since... Hell, she’d _never_ been on a real date. Unless one counts making out with Viserys in the back of a movie theater a date.

_She sure as hell didn’t._

But why? Why would Dickon want to go on a date with her? Boring, average looking Sansa Stark. Girls like her didn’t get dates. Not real ones. Yet Dickon was defying the odds. Maybe he was a bigger man than most. Just like how she’d imagined him in her stupid, girly, mid-class daydreams. Not shallow. Not conceited. Not cocky or vain. A perfect gentleman.

“That’s good,” he said. “In that case…”She could tell he was nervous. His cheeks were turning pink, and he was staring at his shoes and playing with his hair. “Friday? Would you like to go out with me on Friday night?”

“I’d like…”

Then the inevitable happened. Sansa thought of the playboy. The doubly great ass in her life. The one person who could ruin this moment for her. Yes, she had a crush on Dickon Tarly. How could she not? He was sweet, charming, and smart...but her feelings for Jon were way _beyond_ that. She’d skipped the crush kiddie pool and jumped right into the deep, shark-infested ocean of loving someone so fucking much. And she was a lousy swimmer.

But here Dickon was, tossing her a float and offering to save her from drowning. She’d be stupid not to accept. The Seven only knew how long it might be before another rescue party came along.

And, come on, Dickon was adorable.

“I’d like that” Sansa smiled shyly, hoping her pause hadn’t freaked him out too much.

“Great.” He sounded relieved. “I’ll pick you up at seven Friday night.”

“Cool.”

They separated in the cafeteria, and I think I skipped--yeah, skipped like a little kid--to the lunch table, her bad mood totally forgotten.

And it stayed forgotten.

* * *

For the rest of that week, Sansa didn’t think about how she shouldn’t be thinking of Jon. She didn’t think of Jon at all. Not once. Her brain was too full things like _What should I wear?_ And _How should I fix my hair?_ All the stuff she’d never worried about before. Talk about surreal.

But those were the things Marge, Dany, and Missandei were experts on, so they came home with her on Friday afternoon, and they were eager to make her their own personal Barbie doll. Sansa felt a secret thrill as she saw herself transform.

After twenty different outfits, she wound up wearing a dark blue denim skirt and a light blue long sleeve bodysuit. Then they spent the rest of the time using a curling iron on her unwilling hair. It took two hours to get it all curled.

It was already six-fifty when they placed her in front of the mirror to examine their work.

“Perfection!” Marge announced.

“Cute!” Dany jumped giddily.

“Queen!” Missandei chimed in.

“See, Sansa,” Marge spoke. “You are a supermodel in our eyes. We all bow down to your beauty and utter wisdom.”

“Totally!” Dany and Missandei cheered.

“You girls are ridiculous.”

“We are stans of the Sansa Stark.” Marge flipped her hair over her shoulder while Dany and Missandei nodded in agreement.

“Thanks, girls, you’re the best!” Sansa opened her arms and all of them got into a group hug.

A few minutes later after the group hug broke, Sansa spoke up again. “So, um, how are you lot getting home? I can’t take you if Dickon is picking me up in five minutes. Are your parents coming to get you?”

“Oh, no,” Missandei said. “We aren’t leaving.”

“What?”

“We’ll be here when you get back from your date,” Marge informed her. “Then we’re having an ultra-girly, tell-all slumber party in honor of our Queen Sansa’s first big date.”

“Yep,” Dany chimed in.

Sansa gawked at them. “You’re not serious.”

“Do we look like we’re kidding?” Marge asked.

“But what will you do while I’m gone? Won’t you be bored or whatever?”

“You have a TV with Netflix and Hulu on it,” Dany reminded her.

“Plus we’re ordering pizza and cookies from Three Dragons Pizza!” Missandei chimed in.

“And that’s all we really need,” Marge spoke. “We already called your dad. You don’t have a choice.”

The doorbell rang before Sansa could argue any further, and her friends practically pushed her down the stairs. Once they were in the living room, they started straightening her skirt and fixing her hair.

“You’re going to have a great time.” Marge sighed happily. Dany and Missandei giggled in agreement.

The doorbell rang and it was her cue to open the door. She took a deep breath and pulled open the front door. “Hey, Dickon.”

He stood on her front porch, looking as cute as always in his navy blazer and khaki pants. He looked like a Disney Prince. With floppy hair. He gave her a boyish smile that showed off all his ivory teeth. “Hi,” he said, shifting to stand in front of her. He’d been waiting off to one side of the door. “Sorry. I decided to wait. I heard giggling.”

“Oh.” Sansa glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Wow. You look beautiful, Sansa.”

“No, I don’t,” she replied, totally embarrassed. No guy but her dad and…… _him_ had ever said that to her before.

“Of course you do,” he said. “Why would I lie?”

“I don’t know.”

_Oh, wow, I am lame. Why can’t I take a compliment? What if I send him running before we even start the date? Gods, that would be shitty._

Sansa cleared her throat and tried to look like she wasn’t inwardly slapping herself.

“So are you ready to go?” Dickon asked.

“Yeah.”

Sansa stepped outside and shut the door behind her. Dickon took her arm and led her down the sidewalk to his silver Taurus. He even opened the passenger’s door for her, like do in those old movies. Very classy. She couldn’t help wondering, _again,_ why on earth he would be interested in her. He put the key in the ignition and turned to smile at her. His smile was definitely his best feature. So she smiled back, feeling the little butterflies flutter around in the pit of her stomach.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he said.

“Starved,” Sansa lied, knowing very well she was way too nervous to eat.

* * *

Well, dinner was something to behold.

Sansa sat across from Dickon, discussing the majors they were planning to go into in their respective colleges when their waiter showed up.

“Hello, Welcome to Wildfire Steakhouse! My name is Satin and I’ll be your server tonight. What drink would you like to start off with?”

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._

“I’d like water please,” Dickon spoke up.

“Water and for you?….OMG! Dickon and Sansa?! What are you doing here?!”

_Please let me disappear into an abyss._

“We’re on a date.” Dickon smiled at her.

“But…..”

“But what Satin?”

“.......What did you want to drink?”

“Water please.”

“Alright….Sansa, would it be okay if I pull you for a second to ask you a question?”

_What?!_

“About?”

“AP English class.”

“I can answer it here.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to bore Dickon with all the _details.”_

_Oh hell no._

“I could answer it. I love AP English.” Dickon chimed in.

Satin blinked and coughed while Sansa never thought Dickon never looked more angelic in his life.

“Eh. I can always ask at a later time.” Satin finally spoke up and then left to get their waters.

The rest of the dinner went smoothly as it could and Sansa avoided at all costs to get up so that Satin wouldn’t corner her. Sansa let out a deep breath as Dickon and her left the steakhouse and headed towards his Taurus.

“That was a lovely dinner.”

“It was.” Sansa lied and then gave him a big smile. He smiled back and opened the passenger door for her again.

* * *

 “It’s only nine-thirty. I don’t have to take you home yet...unless you want to go home, which is fine, of course.”

“No,” Sansa replied. “I’m not in a hurry to go home. But what do you want to do?”

“Well, we can walk,” Dickon suggested. He gestured down the sidewalk that ran alongside the busy street. “It’s not very exciting, but we can window-shop or talk or--”

Sansa smiled at him. “Walking sounds fun.”

“Wonderful.”

He looped his arm in hers, and they began to stroll down the well-lit sidewalk. They’d passed a couple of small shops before either of them spoke. Thank the Seven he opened his mouth first because, even though she wasn’t that nervous anymore, she was still reeling from the steakhouse run-in with Satin and pondering over what wouldn’t make her sound like a complete goofball.

“Besides majoring in Law at Winterfell, any other plans for when you get there?”

“I’m planning to join the Student Judicial Court there.  I also plan on joining the Broken Tower Society. I’m staying in the Queens Dormitory with my own room.”

“Two questions: What is the Broken Tower Society? How did you score your own room?”

“The Broken Tower Society is the best academic and volunteer society Winterfell has to offer. It has a major influence on getting a great job after graduation. As for getting a single room, the Queen's dorm is for students with a full academic scholarship who are on the Honors program.  They are the best dorms on campus.”

“Congrats on the full academic scholarship! You must've done really well on your ACT.”

Sansa shrugged. “It was just a  score.”

“Just a score doesn’t get you a full academic scholarship to one of the best schools in Westeros. What did you get? I got a 31 on my ACT.”

“I got a 36.”

Dickon paused and looked at her with amazement.

“Sansa, you got a perfect score! I’ve only known one person who got that close in our school. He got a 35.”

“Who was it?”

“Jon Snow.”

Sansa felt her heart clench and she coughed several times.

“Jon Snow?”

“Yeah. He’s very smart. He always has the top grades in AP Bio. He’s a lot smarter than he lets on.”

“He’s let on,” Sansa mumbled.

“What?”

_Shit. Me and my big mouth._

“I worked with him on the AP English paper over _The Scarlet Letter.”_

“How did that go?”

“It _went_. We got a ninety-eight.”

“That’s really good. I got a ninety-six. My partner was an idiot.”

“Who were you paired with?”

“Olyvar Waters.”

“Oh, Gods. That sounds horrible. Did he help you with anything?”

“Sign his name. That’s about it.”

“You didn’t tell Mr. Lannister?”

Dickon laughed. “Didn’t need to. Mr.  Lannister figured it out himself. He gave Olyvar a zero.”

“Good to know there is still justice in our fallen world,” Sansa smirked and Dickon blushed.

“Sansa?”

“Yes, Dickon?”

“I’m really glad I asked you out.”

“I’m glad too.”

“You’re a really amazing girl. You’re funny, intelligent, and compassionate. Not to forget beautiful.”

Sansa felt a blush rising to her cheeks.

“Thank you, Dickon.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for. Just telling the truth.”

Wow. Was he perfect or what? Cute, polite, funny...and he liked her for some unknown reason. It was like they were made for each other. Like he had the puzzle piece that fit hers. Could she get any luckier?

Sansa shivered and Dickon pulled off his blazer, just like boys are supposed to do, and held it out for her.

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t be silly.” He helped her slide into the sleeves. “Honestly, I’d rather not be dating a Popsicle.”

_Dating? This makes me feel really happy and strangely nervous._

Dickon turned her around and adjusted the blazer around her neck and shoulders.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

Dickon looked her in the eyes and asked a question. Sansa slowly nodded and then she felt his lips on hers. It was a gentle, sweet, and long kiss. The kind of kiss she had wanted to share with Dickon Tarly since she was fifteen, and it felt exactly like she’d always imagined it would. His lips were soft and warm, and the way they moved against hers made the butterflies in her belly go berserk. Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her foot off of the ground as Mia did in _The Princess Diaries._

_The book series is better...oh shut up and enjoy this!_

* * *

 

Sansa slipped into the house around eleven o’clock that night and found Dad waiting for her on the sofa. He smiled at her and muted the TV. “Hey, Ladywolf.”

“Hi, Dad.” I shut and locked the front door. “How was your AA meeting?”

“Strange,” Dad admitted. “It’s weird being back again...but I’ll get used to it. What about you? How was your date?”

“Amazing,” she sighed. Seven hells, she couldn’t stop smiling. Dad was probably going to think she’d had a lobotomy or something.

“That’s good,” Dad said. “Tell me again. Who did you go out with? Sorry. I can’t remember his name.”

“Dickon Tarly.”

“Tarly?” Dad repeated. “You mean Randyll Tarly’s son? Oh, that’s great, Ladywolf. Randyll is a good guy. He’s the agricultural director for Reach University, so he usually comes by the store to look at new technology that could advance farming. Wonderful family. I’m glad to hear his son is a nice kid too.”

“He is,” Sansa responded.

The sound of shuffling came from upstairs, and they both glanced up at the ceiling. “Oh.” Dad shook his head and back at her. “I almost forgot about them. They’ve been suspiciously quiet all night.”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I should get up there before Marge has an aneurysm. See you in the morning, Dad.”

“Okay,” Dad chuckled. He reached for the remote and turned up the volume on the TV. “Good night, Ladywolf.”

Sansa danced halfway up the stairs before Dad called out to her again. “Hey, Ladywolf?”

She paused and leaned against the banister, looking down at the living room. “Yeah?”

“Whatever happened to Jon?”

Sansa froze, feeling herself choke a little. “W-what?”

“Your friend. The one who, um...was with you that night.” He looked at her from the couch, re-adjusting his glasses. “You don’t talk about him much.”

“We don’t hang out anymore,” she told him, using that voice that made it clear he shouldn’t ask any more questions. All teenage girls know that voice and use it on their fathers frequently. Usually, the unspoken order is followed. Her father loved her, but he knew better than to delve into the drama of her high school experience.

Smart Dad.

“Oh...I was just wondering.”

“Sansa!” Her bedroom door flew open, and Dany, dressed in lavender pajamas, leaped out of her room. She sprinted halfway down the stairs and grabbed her by the arm. “Stop making us wait! Come tell us everything.”

The way Dany was beaming almost pushed Dad’s mention of Jon from her mind.

Almost.

“Goodnight, Mr.Stark!” Dany yelled as she dragged Sansa to her bedroom.

After a few steps, her feet picked up again and she reminded herself that she’d just had the best date ever with the guy of her dreams. She felt herself succumbing to the giddy joy her best friends expressed as soon as she walked into the room. Squealing, jumping, cheering….

She had a right to be about this. Even cynics deserved a night off once in a while, right?

* * *

 

Apparently, cynics who go on a date with the guy of their dreams but are in love with their former enemies/assignment partner/classmate/confidante don’t get a night off.

It started off with the dream.

She was wearing a light blue denim skirt and a Winterfell University sweater. She was doing Law homework in her dorm when she heard someone knock at the door. She didn’t even have enough time to say hello before the person picked her up in his arms and kissed her passionately. She and the guy scrambled to get each other’s clothes off and tumbled naked on her bed.

“I’ve missed you so much.” He spoke while they kissed down her stomach.

“It’s only been a week.” Sansa chuckled.

“I still missed you.” He responded huskily and then began sucking at her folds.

“ _Oh! Oh! Oh! I’ve missed you too!”_ Sansa let out her release.

“I bet. Probably only missed me because of that.” He laughed softly as he kissed up her body.

“No not just that. I missed your whole lame ass self.” Sansa smiled and they huffed.

“You think my ass is lame? Didn’t you just say it could launch a thousand ships? I’m hurt, Sansa.”

“You’re an idiot. But you’re my idiot. I meant I missed all of you. Everything that makes you, you.” Sansa ran her fingers through his hair and he leaned closer towards her face. His nose touched hers.

“I love you Sansa.” He smiled at her. His brown eyes were full of love.

“I love you too Jon.”

_Stupid, stupid, stupid girl with stupid dreams! Why can’t you understand?! He will NEVER love you! You just went on a date with Dickon-your dream Prince and you’re dreaming of damn Jon! Why can’t you learn?_

Hot tears streamed down Sansa’s face and she sobbed softly in her pillow, just so she wouldn’t wake up the girls. Then she turned over to see what time it was on her phone.

Three AM in the morning. Seven hells. She began to shut her eyes when she saw a text message notification from a recently deleted number.

**Can we talk? I’m not able to go to sleep. Can’t stop thinking about you. Please tell me you’re okay. -Jon**

_Oh no. I….what do I do?_

Sansa was thankful she set her phone up that it wouldn’t show she read messages. Very thankful.

She bit her lip and deleted the message. She needed to move on. She couldn’t love a guy who would never love her back except in her dreams.

  


* * *

 


	16. Easy Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's POV during this confusing time.
> 
> Chapter inspired by Lauv's Easy Love

Jon stretched his arms and reached to hold Sansa. There was nothing.

_Hmm, that’s odd. Where is she? Did she leave?_

Then he heard a soft voice outside on the balcony and smiled to himself. He slid out of bed and went towards his dresser to put on some boxers. He had half the mind to just go outside naked and surprise her. But he had this feeling he needed to be covered.

He slowly opened the door and watched her observing King’s Landing. She really had no idea how beautiful she was. Her red hair was blowing in the wind and her lips curved into a small smile.

“You may not be aware of this, but humans tend to sleep in on Saturdays.” He finally spoke up and she turned around. Her eyes widened, blush quickly on her cheeks, and she looked down at the ground.

Jon rubbed his eyes sleepily with a little smile on his face. It was chilly outside and he was just in his boxers. He was glad she seemed warm enough.

“We need to talk.” Sansa spoke softly as she looked at her feet.

“Hmm,” Jon mused, running a hand through his messy curls. “You know, my father says those are the four most frightening words a woman can say. He claims that nothing good ever begins with ‘We need to talk.’ You’re worrying me a little here, Sans.”

“We should go inside.”

“That’s not promising.”

Sansa followed him into his bedroom, He flopped onto his bed and waited for her to do the same, but she remained standing. He was confused. She wringing her hands uncontrollably and Jon grew nervous.

_What’s going on?_

Sansa reached up and scratched the back of her neck. “Listen,” she spoke. “You’re a great guy, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“Really?” Jon asked. “Since when? You’ve never referred to me as anything better than a nice ass sextoy. I knew I’d grow on you eventually...but something tells me I should be suspicious.”

_Maybe she feels the same way I do._

“But,” she went on, ignoring him as best as she could. “I can’t do this anymore. I think we should stop, um, sleeping together.”

_What did Mom say? Everything before the word but is horseshit? She doesn’t think those things? Maybe she hates me…._

“Why?” He asked somberly, trying to disguise the hurt in his voice.

“Because this isn’t working for me anymore,” she spoke, “I don’t think this”-Sansa gestured between them- “is in my, uh... _either of our_ best interests.”

_Either of our best interests? Is this about what happened last night?_

Jon narrowed his eyes at her. “Sansa, does this have something to do with what happened last night?” he asked seriously. “If so, I want you to know that you don’t have to worry about--”  
“That’s not it.”

“What, then? You’re not making sense.”

Sansa was staring at her shoes. “I’m like Hester,” she barely whispered. Jon was surprised her heard her.

_Like Hester? Wait….._

“What?” He spoke up and Sansa looked up at him in surprise.

_Guess she didn’t mean for me to hear her._

“I’m like…” She shook her head. “Nothing. We’re done. I’m done.”

_Sans….just tell me what's wrong._

“Sansa-”

He heard two quick honks from the driveway.

“I--I have to go.” She stammered and ran out of the room.

Jon got up to chase after her. She was running as if her life depended on it and he was so close. He kept yelling her name in hopes to stop her.  She hopped in the car and he watched it speed away. He felt his heart stop.

“I love you, Sansa.” Jon said to himself.

* * *

Jon was surprised he heard the knock on the door over the heavy rock music he was playing while he worked out. He opened the door to see Satin.

“What’s up?” Satin walked in past him and plopped himself on the loveseat.

“Not much. What are you doing here? I thought we were going to see the movie on Saturday.” Jon collapsed on the couch and gulped some water down.

“I came here for an intervention.”

“What the fuck? I don’t have a problem.”

“Yes, you do. You haven’t been yourself the last few days.”

“Satin, this week has been crazy….”

“Is it because Sansa Stark has been avoiding you as if you have greyscale?” Satin looked at his nails and Jon blinked.

_How did he know…..?_

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Pfft, As if. You may have the best poker face in the world to everyone else, but I’m your best friend. I can tell something is off just by seeing your the little ticks in your demeanor. You don’t have me fooled. I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at her and you light up every time she talked to you or when she was mentioned. You love her.”

“Yeah, I do.” Jon took a deep sigh and Satin looked at him sadly.

“What happened between you two?”

“At first it was just sex. Honestly the best sex I’ve ever had. Seven hells. Then over time, I got to know her more and more. Satin...Sansa is the most beautiful girl inside and out. She’s funny, smart, kind, neurotic, and thoughtful.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell her then?”

“I told her all those things except….”

“Except what?” Satin rose an eyebrow.

“That I love her,” Jon mumbled and then felt a pillow hit him hard. “Seven hells, Satin!”

“You’re an idiot! You should’ve told her.” Satin stood to put his hands on his hips.

“What if I had? Doesn’t matter she doesn’t feel the same way.”

“You’re so full of shit.” Satin scoffed and Jon stood up in anger.

“She doesn’t feel the same way Satin. She said that I’m a nice guy but that we should stop sleeping together and….”

“You’re so damn oblivious.”

“Oblivious about what?”

“She loves you but she’s afraid.”

“Satin...she doesn’t love me.”

“You know nothing. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She looks at you and smiles to herself. I saw her blush when you two went outside for that “homework assignment.” Seven hells, just the way I’ve overheard her talk to you in passing, it’s obvious. She loves you just as much as you love her. Go get your girl.”  

Satin spoke and Jon sat back against the couch.

_Sansa loves me too? This is amazing! I can tell her….Oh damn. I just remembered. Aw shit._

“Satin I can’t get her back.”

“Why not?!” Satin rose his eyebrows.

“I heard she’s going on a date with Dickon Tarly this weekend.”

“And?”

“And what? I’ve seen the way she’s looked at Tarly.”

“So have I and I can tell you it’s not the same.”

“I can’t ruin her date, Satin.”

“Maybe you can’t but I can.”

“Um, what?”

“Dickon made reservations at Wildfire Steakhouse for Saturday night. I can ask my boss if I can switch my shift and be their server. I can give you all the juicy deets.”

“Satin, I appreciate your offer but…...”

“But nothing Jon. It’s signed, sealed, and delivered. I will inform you about what happens on the date.” With that Satin got up and left, leaving Jon in silence.

* * *

 

Satin sipped on his tea while Jon placed their pizza on the table. Jon sat down and then started scarfing down his slice. Satin sat down his tea and clasped his hands together.

“Jon, I tried to talk to her but she avoided me. Predictable.” Satin scoffed and then took a big bite of pizza.

“Was she enjoying herself?” Jon looked at his can of Orange Crush.

“I guess.” 

“What do you mean you guess?” Jon asked and got slapped by a slice of pizza.

“You are so dumb it kills me. She loves you. She’s only using Dickon for….”

“ _ Distraction?”  _ Jon offered.

“Definitely. I could tell she wasn’t really feeling it in her eyes, especially when they kissed.”

“They kissed?”

“Aw shit, sorry Jon. Yeah, they kissed. It wasn’t one of those tongue kisses. It looked like it came from a basic TV show. It was a peck.” 

“How can you be so sure there wasn’t tongue?”

“Excuse me?! I’ve watched plenty of kisses and kissed enough guys to know it wasn’t a tongue kiss. How dare you?” Satin narrowed his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I just...it’s hard for me to imagine her kissing some other guy okay?”

“Tell her how you feel.”

“How? Sansa won’t even talk or look at me.”

“Text and call her. Tell her simple sweet things, ask her if she’s doing alright, and tell her that you miss her.”

“You’re sure that it will work?”

“Positive.”

* * *

 

 Jon took a deep sigh in the shower, resting his forehead against the wall. He hoped that Sansa got his text and that she would respond.

_ “What happened here?” Sansa gestured towards the scars all over his chest.  _

_ “I got into a fight with some guys at summer camp last year. It was pretty nasty, I had to go to the hospital.” _

_ “Do they ever hurt?” She ran her fingers along the scars. _

_ “They used to. Not anymore.” He spoke softly, gently grabbing her hand, holding it to his chest. “How did you get yours?” _

_ “Meryn Trant in middle school. I was defending my cousin Robb after Joffrey said some vile shit. Joffrey got really angry and told Meryn to “go to town,” I’m lucky that Mr. Lannister showed up in time or otherwise I’d look uglier.” She laughed sadly.  _

_ “You’re not ugly. You’re beautiful. “ Jon gently tilted her chin to look up at him and then slowly reached back to trace her scars. “I think they make you look a fierce badass.” _

_ “Really?” Sansa asked shyly. _

_ “Yeah.” Jon smiled at her and Sansa blushed. _

_ “I think your’s make you look like a badass too.” She smiled to herself and then placed her fingers in his curls. She got on her tiptoes and kissed him softly on the lips. They kissed and held each other for a while until they got cold under the water. _

“I fucking miss her,” Jon huffed out.


	17. Adrenaline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrenaline by Lauv
> 
> So 8x04 of GoT happened. Yeah..... I am cautiously excited for the show to end and the last two books. If you want more thoughts- I have them on Queen of Songs on Tumblr.

Sansa’s good mood lasted all the way through to Monday afternoon. What was there to be irritated about? Nothing. Things were back to normal at home. Her friends hadn’t dragged her to the Dragon Pit in weeks. Oh, and she’d just gone a date with the perfect boy. Who was she to complain?

“I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy,” Marge observed as Sansa pulled out of the student parking lot. Her voice was full of pep and she bounced in her seat. “It’s so refreshing!”

“Seven hells, Marge, you make me sound like a White Walker.” Sansa laughed.

“It’s not that,” Marge replied. “It’s just you haven’t been as bitter as usual lately. It’s a nice change.”

“I’m not bitter.” Sansa tried to keep a straight face but caved as soon as Marge started laughing.

“You are so.” Marge patted her shoulder. “But that’s okay, Sans. It’s part of your personality. We love that about you. We’re are happy that you’re happy.”

“I guess you’re right,” Sansa smiled to herself.

“I always am,” Marge smirked while she leaned forward to change the song on Sansa’s playlist. “So, what’s up with you and Dickon? Anything gossip worthy?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. He’s coming over this afternoon.”

“Ooh!” Marge sat back in her seat and winked at her. “Sounds gossip-worthy to me. You’ve picked up extra-large condoms, right?”

“Shut up,” Sansa replied. “We’re not that kind of thing, and you know it. He’s just coming over to work on or editorials for AP government. It’s--”

She was cut off when her cell phone, which was lying in the cup holder, started vibrating and playing loud music. Her fingers instantly clinched around the steering wheel. Sansa knew who she’d set that ringtone for, and those few chords were all it took to derail her entire afternoon.

“Adrenaline by Lauv? I love that song! Is that your ringtone for Dickon?” Marge laughed and rose her eyebrows suggestively.

Sansa didn’t say anything.

“Aren’t you gonna answer it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t wanna talk to him.”

“Who?”

Sansa didn’t respond, so Marge picked up her cell phone and checked the ID. She heard Marge let out a knowing sigh. A few seconds later, the music stopped playing, but Sansa couldn’t force her body to relax again. She felt stiff and anxious, and it didn’t help that Marge had her eyes glued on Sansa.

“You haven’t talked to him?” Marge tilted her head sideways.

“No,” Sansa muttered.

“Since the day I picked you up from his house?”

“Mm-mm.”

“Oh, Sans,” Marge sighed. “What do you think he wants?”

“To talk about things.”

“Well that can’t be bad can it?”

“Marge, I told you I had loved him. I can’t talk to him.”

“You’re out of love now?”

“It’s complicated. There’s the fact Jon doesn’t love me back. Now there’s Dickon…”

“You should talk to him.”

“I’ll think about it.”

* * *

Sansa laughed to herself, remembering just fifteen minutes ago when she dropped off Marge at her house. Robb ran out of Marge’s house, sweeping Marge into his arms. He was dressed in a Prince Charming costume and had shaven his beard off.

Marge’s older brother Garlan brought out a sparkly banner spelling out Dear Lady Margaery Tyrell, would you join me to the Royal proms at Riverlands High School and Kings Landing High School? Marge squealed, Robb kissed her, and….well it was a good thing Garlan and Sansa were there. Otherwise, Robb and Marge would’ve ripped each other’s clothes off and go at it in front of her house. Garlan coughed loudly and Sansa mumbled she had to go. Robb and Marge briefly separated to say bye and giggled, running off to Robb’s truck. Garlan shook his head and Sansa walked back to her car.

 _Shotgun_ by George Ezra played out in the car, snapping Sansa back to the present moment. Dickon’s ringtone she’d set for him. She turned on the speaker phone in the car.

“Hey! I’m almost at my house.” Sansa spoke.

“I’m not coming over.”

“Oh….why?”

“Sansa, I thought I was ready to move on from Talisa...but I’m just not ready. I still love her.” Dickon’s voice broke out.

“I fully understand, I can relate.”

“I hope we can still be friends.”

“Definitely!”

“Before I go, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you love Jon Snow?”

“What would make you think that?” Sansa’s voice went up an octave.

“Sansa… I’ve seen the way you look at him. It’s the way I looked-still look at Talisa. It’s pretty clear you do.”

“Maybe I _do_ but what does it matter? Jon _doesn’t_ love me back.”

“Get back to me about that in class on Monday.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll _see_.”

“Dickon…”

“See you at class on Monday, Sansa.”

Sansa huffed. What does Dickon Tarly know? 

He’s just being ridiculous.

* * *

 When she drove up to her street, she saw Jon’s Mustang parked further down the street. He was standing nervously outside the front door.

_Maybe if I go the back way….Aw shit. He saw me._

She sighed and set her car in park. She slid out and prayed for her nerves to settle.

“Hi, Jon. Fancy seeing you here.” Sansa greeted him with somber cheeriness.

“That’s all you have to say? You haven’t talked to me in weeks.” Jon scoffed. Just seeing him again, up close, made Sansa’s heartache.

“Why don’t we go inside?” Sansa bit the inside of her cheek.

_I, Sansa Minisa Stark, will not look at Jon Snow. I will not sleep with Jon Snow. I will not tell Jon Snow I love him. I will have a civil conversation with him._

“Alright. Sounds good Sans, after you.” Jon smirked.

_I, Sansa Minisa Stark, will not look at Jon Snow. I will not sleep with Jon Snow. I will not tell Jon Snow I love him. I will have a civil conversation with him. I will stay far away from him._

* * *

 “You’re running away.” Jon narrowed his eyes at her. 

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t pretend, Sansa,” he said. “You’re smarter than that, and so am I. I finally figured out what you meant when you left. You said you were like Hester. I get it now. The first time you came to my house, when we wrote that paper, you said Hester was trying to escape. But everything caught up with Hester in the end, didn’t it? Well, something finally caught up with you, but you’re running away again. Only, Dickon”--Jon gestured towards her--” is your escape this time.” He took a step toward Sansa, forcing her to crane her neck even more to see his face.

“Admit it, Sansa.”

“Admit what? Dickon just ended things over the phone. He still is in love with his ex.”

“That you’re running away from me,” he said unfazed by her news. “You realized you had feelings for me and you bailed because it scared the shit out of you.”

Sansa scoffed at him and tried to walk past him but he gently grabbed her by the elbow.

“I love you, Sansa.”

_Wait….did I just hear him correctly?!_

“What?” Sansa’s eyes widened and her voice softened.

Sansa felt Jon’s fingers caress her face and opened her eyes to see him smiling softly at her.

“I love you too.” Sansa laughed and stood on her toes to kiss him. His fingers ran through her hair and he smiled against her lips. “I missed you, Sansa.”

“I missed you too Jon.”

“I am going to take you out on real dates. I want you to meet my parents- Sansa, I talked to them and they’re going to make more of an effort to be home. I want to hold your hand and just do life with you. If you want that too.”

“I definitely want that with you as well and I am so so so proud of you for talking to your parents. I talked to my dad and he’s been going to AA meetings. Facing the truth can be a good thing after all.”

“I agree wholeheartedly.” Jon caressed her cheek before leaning in to kiss her. Sansa laughed as he wrapped her around his waist and lead them to her bedroom. Jon laid her gently down her on her bed and stood back, smiling softly to himself.   
“What’s the smile for?”Sansa grinned as she leaned up on her elbows.

“You’re honestly the most beautiful girl inside and out. I’m a pretty lucky bastard.”  A cute grin played on his face and Sansa felt herself blush.

“I don’t think you’re a bastard, Jon. You’re an angsty, dark heroic prince.” Sansa giggled as his brown eyes twinkled with amusement.

Jon crawled over her and smirked. “You’re the witty, smart, and sweet princess then.”

Sansa smiled as she ran her fingers through his curls, pulling him towards her so she could kiss him. She loved his lips. They were soft, pouty, and determined to make her insides explode. His kisses moved from her lips towards her ear.

“If I told you about _my_ dreams I’ve had about _you and me,_  I’m pretty sure you would agree with me I’m a bastard.” He spoke low and Sansa rubbed her thighs together.

“I guess I’m a bastard like you then. I wonder if _my_ dreams can best _yours,”_ Sansa murmured.“Maybe, Jon, we could just have a day where we can act out all those dreams and then see which one is best. I’m pretty sure _mine_ will win in the end.”

“Sans...you already win with that vision of you naked and mine to ravish all day long.” Jon groaned out before he started unbuttoning her jeans, slowly pulling them down.

“What are you doing Jon?” Sansa laughed softly as he slowly pulled down her underwear.

“Finishing up that job that sadly got interrupted….I really like this pair. Are they new?” Jon held the light blue underwear up to his nose and smelled it. Sansa bit her lip. He hadn’t even kissed her yet and she was about to let a moan.

“Yeah, they are. I thought of you when I got them.” She smiled to herself.

“How sweet of you Sansa,” Jon put a hand on his chest and Sansa rolled her eyes. “I’m going to keep them forever.”

“Jon, I paid good money for those and they’re my favorite!”

“I’ll buy you more the rest of our lives.”

_Being together for the rest of our lives sounds pretty amazing to me…._

“Ahh, Jon!” Sansa moaned as she grabbed a fistful of curls as he kissed her mercilessly down there.

* * *

 

“Is your Dad coming home soon?” Jon breathed out after they’d finished for the fourth time in a row. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to look him in the face after being with his daughter for the last few hours.”

“No, he’s going on a couples retreat with my mom. I think they might just rebuild their relationship. I believe it will go well,” She smiled softly and Jon rested his hand on her cheek. His brown eyes were full of love.

“I believe so too.”

* * *

 

“So I think we should become celibate…..” Sansa struggled to keep a straight face before she and Jon burst out into laughter.

“Oh seven hells, I’m fucking sore but I can’t stop….” Jon held his chest.

“Me either!” Sansa giggled in spite of her body was sore all over. Jon had spent the night and as soon as they woke up, they went about their dream contest. They took small breaks in between the nine sessions. They watched some Netflix and Hulu, made each other “surprise topping” pizza, quizzed one another on upcoming exams, and talked even more about their families and friends. There was nothing much better than spending time all day loving a naked Jon Snow physically, mentally, socially, and emotionally.

“I think you won Sans.” Jon closed his eyes.

“Why is that?”

“Just by being your beautiful self.”

“You’re beautiful too you know,” Sansa smiled at him and he drew her in his arms.

“I am truly honored,” Jon kissed her temple.

Sansa rested her head on his chest and she could hear his strong and steady heartbeat.“I love you, Jon.”

“I love you too, Sansa.”

“Before I fall asleep, I did want to ask you one thing.”

“What’s that Sans?”

“You’re my boyfriend right?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure we established that yesterday.” Jon chuckled softly.

“That means we’ll have to celebrate Valentine's Day. Are you ready for that type of commitment Jon Snow?”

“Are you ready for me to be the mushiest boyfriend of all time and make _you_ take the silly selfies, are you ready for that commitment Sansa Stark?” Jon rose an eyebrow in amusement.

Sansa locked her blue eyes with his brown.

“Yes,” They spoke softly in unison and held each other tight before they fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter:) 
> 
> Please comment or give constructive criticism, either is greatly welcomed!
> 
> Have a marvelous day!  
> -Winterfellsummerose17


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